And Now for Something Completely Different
by The Tygre
Summary: Anomalous short stories from the universe of the Arcanists. Happy Halloween! Scarecrows! Czernobog! Domovoi! And a whole bunch of other crap probably inspired by Russian myth and Ray Bradbury!
1. The Dragons Below

**In memory of Mr. Howard Phillip Lovecraft.**

**You are Providence indeed, sir.**

**And a happy Halloween to you all!**

* * *

_"There now ensued a series of incidents which transported me to the opposite extremes of ecstasy and horror; incidents which I tremble to recall and dare not seek to interpret."_

- H.P. Lovecraft,_The Crawling Chaos_

_"It seemed to be a sort of monster, or symbol representing a monster, of a form which only a diseased fancy could conceive. If I say that my somewhat extravagant imagination yielded simultaneous pictures of an octopus, a dragon, and a human caricature, I shall not be unfaithful to the spirit of the thing. A pulpy, tentacled head surmounted a grotesque and scaly body with rudimentary wings; but it was the general outline of the whole which made it most shockingly frightful."_

_"Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn." ... "In his house at R'lyeh dead Cthulhu waits dreaming."_

- H.P. Lovecraft,_The Call of Cthulhu_

Like so many great and terrible things that happen on this little island other wise known as reality, the rupture in the multiverse began with a series of discoveries.

Jump city was neither a desolate nor forgotten place. It was like a young antithesis of Gotham: full of light and youth and purity and joy. And no small amount of this came from the city's defenders, the Teen Titans. But there was one among their number who far more animated, with the taint of the Lower Planes in her blood. She needs no introductions; she is Raven, and that is all. But it came to pass, as it does so often in the Machiavellian twisting of the spider web that is fate, that Raven met one of her kindred; a tanar'ri, the Fire Demon Kresk.

And Kresk took the young half-demon under his tattered wings, even after Raven's vow to never associate with her species if she didn't need to. And the Fire Demon taught her things, terrible things, wonderful things, and dragged her with the slightest of ease into a world of black and slimy arcane secrets, old and potent magics whispered of by ignorant mortals who had no grasp of the magnitude of the threats around them. And it was with a nye-paternal glee that the Fire Demon brought his apprentice into the domain of life magic, of manipulating the forces of existence and the animation of entropic shells; Kresk began to teach Raven the art of Necromancy.

And where better to teach the young cambion in the arts of the darkest college of magic than its home and breeding ground, the fountain of its most common and horrid practitioners, than a graveyard? Between the outskirts and the heart of the city, like a median ring of Hell, a forgotten grotto of tombstones and markers lay. On this particular night, the sky was clear and the stars lost to city lights, blotted out by cold intelligence and electricity. But in the graveyard, fog crawled in, slithering and groping the moist earth and dead rock. It had crept from the sky, baring a foul scent of decay and stale water. The tombstones were of a more elder variety, rounded standards and obelisks, more original and solemn than the newer models. And they were old, oh to be sure they were old. The rock cracked and chipped, obscuring the forgotten names that hovered above ill grass and hallow flowers. Moss crawled into the splinters and openings, an infection from the rape of time. Its dark green was mixed with scabs of brown and black mud. Trees, gnarled and twisted, sprang from the ground and fissured the evening strata. A high fence surrounded the plot, ebon iron and spikes pulling the skin off any who would disturb the corpses of this place. The gates were watched by a lone guardhouse, but that was often abandoned, and it did not stop memories and sins. Or demons of any kind, for that matter.

Kresk adored the graveyard. He said that it was one of the few of its kind in the world. The 'creepy' kind, that is. He remembered when graveyards were reviled as cursed gardens, where death hanged and would lash out at any fool idiotic enough to linger about. Now they were hallowed places, mattresses for the dearly departed, that had a feeling of serenity and rest and hope around them. It disgusted the demon, although he did enjoy the concept of further desecrating a holy place for his sheer amusement. But no, the best graveyards were the old kind, with darkness and owls and night sounds and shadows wavering too long before they departed.

Yes, it was here that the Fire Demon had brought Raven to raise a corpse from the ground, unknowing of the consequences it would bring. Like a predator, Kresk stalked between the tombstones, muttering what were no doubt ancient words of terrible power.

(Sniff)

"Zilch."

(Sniff)

"Nada."

(Sniff)

"Nothing."

(Sniff)

"Wait! I think I got something- (Sniff) Oh, never mind." Kresk was tracking the scent of the graves, the moment of death, to find a suitable undead to be raised. Behind him, Raven stalked, folded in her cloak. The graveyard had its own charm, to be sure. But she didn't see why Kresk had to drag her out here to summon a zombie or a skeleton or such; she could just do it back at home with a mere chicken or cat body. But _no_, Kresk insisted on proper Necromancy. Up ahead, she could hear him muttering, "Just one shallow unmarked grave, I DESERVE one shallow unmarked grave. Gods, if you can hear me, I want a shallow unmarked grave." Suddenly, the Fire Demon stopped. He lifted up his hand and Raven halted. Kresk got on all fours and sniffed the ground like a starved predator, keeping his face straight to the dirt until he reached a small tombstone. Kresk laughed before he shouted, "Yes! Got one! Kid, come over here!"

"Yeah?" Raven replied as she stood next to Kresk. "Feast your eyes on _this_!" the Fire Demon proclaimed, pointing at the tombstone. It was a tiny rock, a pebble among the boulders. Its sides were rounded and uneven. Vines grew up and strangled the surface, moss smothering space. Scratched on as a faux title was the name 'Elizabeth'. No last name was given. The years given were 1956-1965; the child was only nine years old at her death. Raven was in shock, "You want me to raise a _child_?"

"Oh no, not just an undead child. Tell me, have you ever heard of a slaymate?"

"No. Should I have?"

"Probably not. Slaymates are a special kind of lesser undead, raised only from dead children who died because of the negligence of a parent or guardian. They felt betrayed at the time of their death, and so seek vengeance against the living. Necromancers sometimes take them as familiars due to a very potent aura they have that strengthens magic. And I think that _this_ grave has the potential for a slaymate. What do you say?"

"You can't be serious. You expect me to perform necromancy to raise an undead little girl with abandonment issues just out of _practice_?"

"Yes, quite naturally. I fail to see the problem here. Think of it this way; she died too young, now we're giving her a second shot. She'll just have to settle for being a walking bag of decay seeking vengeance in her un-life."

"No."

"You're gonna make me beg, aren't you? Alright, what if I promise to resolve whatever freaky abandonment issues she has after you raise her, the old fashioned way?"

"Your old fashioned way, or THE old fashioned way?"

"Is there any way BUT mine?"

"So you're going to rip off her head, burn the remains, keep the skull, and throw the ashes into a swift moving river?"

"Yup!"

"Gods no."

Kresk huffed, "Fine, I'll do it _your_ way. I'll go track down the source of trouble and 'talk' about it until she's at 'peace'. My way's more fun, though. I needed a new skull…" There was a moment of silence as Raven contemplated her choices before she said, "Fine. But you better live up to your end."

"Of course, of course. Now, let's get started! I have the bone and the candle right here!" Kresk pulled out the bone of something (or someone) and a black candle. Igniting his thumb, the Fire Demon lit the candle and placed it on the tombstone. "And you know the rest…" Kresk briskly ordered. Raven summoned a needle and pricked her finger. The drop of blood splattered on the bone, Raven gently placing the fillet on the grave next to the candle. She waved her hands over the tombstone, pouring magic into the material components, the earth, and the corpse. As she did so, Raven recited ancient words in Draconic, using the venerable tongue to aid her success.

Life began to pour into the cadaver in the coffin, Raven could feel it. Kresk, perched on a nearby obelisk like some malformed gargoyle, watched in eager anticipation. The soon to be slaymate crawled towards the surface, but lazily. She had been abandoned, true, but it was by accident. Her mother was watching her little brother and…and…it was all kind of a blur after that. All she remembered was that now she was dead. Had she been…a ghost earlier? Either way, she had made her peace already. There was no need to withdraw from the womb of Gaia. And so, the slaymate merely descended.

But something was still forcing her forward, some old spell that demanded she try and take revenge, seek petty arguments with the living. The slaymate pressed her will against Raven's foul necromancy, and then she broke free. Just like that, she was a body again, and her soul drifted through the Astral Plane to the afterlife again.

But on the surface, the spell backfired. And for daring to try and defy the natural order, the laws of necromancy backlashed on Raven. The candle blew out with a gust, leaving a wispy snake of smoke. The bone floated in the air, green cracks of light showing over it. It exploded, sending out a force wave to its controller. A wave of green energy hit Raven full on, knocking her back on to her feet. Kresk immediately leaped to aid, crouching next to the now unconscious Raven. And he could smell something on her, and rejoiced a little bit, for it was a familiar scent; it was the odor of taint.

Raven limply laid in the mist, sprawled on the ground, her head against a tombstone of yore. There was a glitch in her breath, a strain in her lungs; her breaths were shallow and forced, asthma of the necromancy. Kresk poked her with one of his claws, calling out, "Kid? Kid? Wake up. Come on. I know you're not dead. If you were dead I would have seen it. Now wake up!" He ended his last command with a sharp point of one of his talon. At this last statement, Raven awoke with what could best be called a snarl. Not a remark, an actual guttural imitation of bestial annoyance. She managed to gasp out, "What is it?" to the Fire Demon.

"Yikes, you woke up foul! You alright?"

"I was until you woke me up. What happened with the slaymate? (Gasp) And what's wrong with my breathing?"

"The spell failed. The kid put her will against yours and won. You got a backwash of the arcane variety, I suspect. And that means you've entered into the estate of evil! You got your first trace of taint!"

"Taint?"

"It's a loose term that refers to the side-effects and mutations you may experience when you use evil magic or such. I've got plenty of signs here. See?" Kresk pulled up one of the sleeves of his rope with a swift and singular motion. Raven was glad that Fire Demon kept his skin covered; it was hideous. The skin itself was pocked and leathery, pale as a fish and just as hairless. Kresk didn't seem to have the basic anatomy of a humanoid arm. It really looked more like an assimilation of fat, muscle, bones, and what might be tumors all jumbled into one freakish paw. Raven swore she saw two or three lumps move under the demon's skin. Even with this, there were moles and boils infrequently bubbling forth. Kresk started to point to some of the lumps and twisted bone, naming each incident that caused its birth, "Let's see. This one's from hunting unicorns, ah, this one is burning down an orphanage. The big one over here is from the_mind rape_ spell I used (great Enchantment, by the way; can't go wrong), this one…I think it was a Bob Dylan concert. The details are kind of hazy there… And this little adorable fellow is from murdering a nun in her sleep! I was bored."

"Well how (Gasp) does this relate (Gasp) to me?"

"I imagine that asthma and your attitude are reflections of _your_ taint. Did I forget to mention you go a little insane with taint? So far, I have schizophrenia, pyromania, bestiality, sociopath, and I may or may not have several other dementias and repressed memories. It gives me something to look forward to on my birthday, you know."

"Isn't magic (Gasp) a matter of perspective?"

"Most of the time, yes. But there are just some spells that are evil, and some that are good. Think of it this way; when I cast a _fireball_, I'm generating fire, not water."

"Still, isn't it all (Gasp) dependent? What about (Gasp) intentions?"

"Can you think of any reason, beyond total self-satisfaction, to raise the dead?"

"(Gasp) Touché. How do I (Gasp) get rid of this?"

"Well, that would need healing magic beyond your expertise. And I can't do it because…well come on, do I look like I'm the kind of guy who kisses bruises? Don't worry, I'll find a way. We've got a few hours before the effects are permanent. Let's get moving." The Fire Demon stood up. Raven used her arms and moved upward as well. But the young mage hunched her shoulders and kept her face in a feral mask. The two mages walked through the fog back to the Tower, predators of the Abyssal kind.

* * *

Raven was impatiently counting the hours. Back at the Tower, the other Titans, who all seemed disturbingly _human,_ were idling time in their jolly, mortal ways. The young cambion hungered for meat, for bloody muscle to fill her belly. Kresk had gone out, saying that there might be someone, or something in Sigil that could help. Raven prowled at the outskirt of the communal fire that was Friday night, patient and disturbed at the intrusion on _her_ territory. Raven had garnered from Kresk that her mental curse was bestiality; to be like an animal, to think and feel like a creature of the wild, all with cold attitude of her half-demon self. Beast Boy had said something to her at one point while she was lapping up tea. She had snapped something at him in a raptor tongue that spoke volumes in his language of fauna.

Now, the cambion sat and waited for the Kresk to alert her. It seemed like days before the Fire Demon's voice rang in her ears, but it was really only a few hours. The demon growl proclaimed, "Kid, head to your room. I've got the answer to all your problems waiting." Raven, miffed that any other being had dared to intrude upon her nest, stalked off on feline heels to her abode, letting the humanoids in their shelter rest.

Raven found a further liking for her room with her bestiality. The darkness and warmth were reminiscent of a dragon cave or gryphon roost. Kresk stood on one side of Raven's room, a large box with holes for air at his side. Raven, quite literally, perched like a vulture on her bed. She wheezed, "Well (Gasp), what have you got? (Gasp)"

"I've found us a very special kind of pet. It's a special kind of monster bred specifically for removing taint. As you can imagine, it's called a Corruption _Eater_. Just a little trouble and you ought to be right as rain."

"I don't know. (Gasp) I've been thinking Kresk (Gasp). Maybe this disease (Gasp) can be a gift. You seem (Gasp) to use it all right."

"Kid, you're scratching your ear with your _foot_." Indeed, like any animal, Raven had shifted her torso to scratch the back of her ear with her bare foot. She realized this and promptly stopped. Kresk went on, "Now, I myself am not above the simple pleasures of a hoof-ear scratch, but enough is enough, don't you think? Besides, how long do you intend to keep wheezing like that?" Raven was rather annoyed with the asthma. She could just barely recite her mantras and spells before it began, but those were some of the shorter incantations. To falter on the longer, more potent charms was to risk existence itself. Raven begrudged, "Alright. Do what you must."

"This won't take long." Kresk said, opening the latch on the box. An absurd and disgusting creature greasily slinked from the box. It was humanoid enough; that is to say it had what looked like two arms and two legs. Here and there, scales large scales grew from the slimy, acid green skin. The feet ended in three talons, but on closer inspection it was seen that the arms were tentacles that ended in clubs with spikes on the ventral surface. A set of spines ran down the back ridge, which skipped the neck and went straight to the head. The cranium had a sloped head and two round, silver eyes. On the chin, two horns rested in defense. But the incredible thing was the mouth; the maw was wide and rubbery. When it opened, a set of needle like sharp teeth presented themselves like spears for battle. And the single most astonishing feature was yet to come. Smelling the air, the creature put forth an obscenely long tongue, nearly half the length of its body. It was a tentacle more than anything; it was covered in smaller mouth that looked like suckers.

The Corruption Eater placed its eyes on Raven and smelled the air around her. Before she could react, the monster was on her. Her arms were wrapped in its arm tentacles, not realizing that its prey had no desire to fight back. Then, its tongue began to circle around her head. Raven was able to cry out, "Hey! What's it doing?"

"Don't worry. This is just part of the process." Kresk reaffirmed. The tongue wrapped around Raven like a boa, and she felt her eyes lose sight and_something_ touch her mouth and ears. With horror, the half-demon knew it was one of the suckers on the tongue. The Corruption Eater tightened its squeeze, and Raven felt something_leave_ her. For a minute or two, the Corruption Eater sucked its delicious meal of taint before it loosened its grip and fell off of Raven. Despite the disgusting experience, the mage felt better for it. Her thoughts were clearer and more direct, more civilized. She breathed in deep, and a released with a sigh of gladness. "Ah, good to see you back on your feet." Kresk approved. And then, the Fire Demon saw the Corruption Eater staring at him with hungry eyes. Kresk warned, "Hey! Hey, back off pal! Just back off!"

Kresk put his hand front of him, claws poised to strike, but the Corruption Eater didn't care. It rushed the demon and tussled with his arm. The Fire Demon tried to claw it off or pull the fiend away, but its slippery hide made it difficult. The creature wrapped its tongue around Kresk's arm and began to suck and bloat itself. Kresk howled out in rage, "GET OFF OF ME, DAMN IT!" The monster paid no heed. Raven, seeing her tutor's predicament, grabbed the creature with a shadowy claw and threw the beast away quickly. The Corruption Eater crawled up a wall after such a violent rejection and into a vent. Kresk was now compulsively sobbing disturbingly clear tears of blood. He moaned out, "Don't look at me, I'm hideous! I'm deformed…MISSHAPENED!" He clutched his right hand. Raven, a healer once more said, "Here, let me see." The Fire Demon moved his paw to unveil his horrible perfection. His wrist was now clear of all skin infections. It was a sculpted balance of muscle with a little bit of elderly fat, and smooth as a baby's bottom. No tumors or warts or bones stained it. The demon still had his claws and calluses on his hand, but all other traces of foulness were gone. It was absolutely horrifying.

"Look what it did to me!" the Fire Demon cried. "Oh, my beautiful wickedness! All my beautiful wickedness! What a world, what a world!"

"Oh, it's not that bad…" Raven bemoaned. "LIES!" the Fire Demon screamed. "Shouldn't we be looking for the Corruption Eater? It could cause a lot of trouble by itself."

"Go on without me. I'm a FREAK!" Kresk roared. Raven only sighed and ran out of her room. She could hear the scuttling of the aberration down the halls. When she found it, the creature was pawing at a door like a famished pup. And Raven paused; for this was the door of a particular girl she had known. This was the entry to Tera's room. Kresk appeared a few moments later. He had wrapped his healed hand in one of Raven's cloaks, much to her discontent. But she was more worried about the hungry gleam in his eye. He asked, restraining himself, "Tell me, kiddo, what's behind that door?"

"That WAS Tera's room, when she lived here."

"Ah, so this is the Upper Room of the Blonde Judas, eh?"

"Yes, if you insist on calling her that…" There was a pause, where the only sound was the eager ministrations of the Corruption Eater. "Why is it doing that?" Raven asked, already knowing the answer in her heart. "Sometimes, an act of evil can taint a _place_ as well as a person or thing. Say, betraying five of your friends to certain death for the promise of power?"

"But, she tried to redeem herself…"

"But not this place! Quickly girl, open the door. Let us see where the Last Supper truly happened!" Raven walked over and uneasily opened the room, clicking the code to undo the wedding bow digital lock. The door opened, the first sound to reverberate through the air in too long. It should have been like the graveyard, filled with decay and dirt and dust. But all it was only dry and cold, the bed untouched in requiem pain. The desert in the wallpaper was far more deserted than could be imagined, the lonely cacti and rocks mourning. The heart shaped box that Garfield had given the earthmover still lay in traitorous lachrymose. Kresk stepped in with anticipation. He closed his eyes, smiled, and wrapped his arms around himself. He inhaled and released a joyful sigh of pleasure and self-satisfaction as he giggled to himself, "Ah, do you feel it? Taint is in the air. It's mild, oh so mild, but it's there. Just enough to push a good ritual through the roof. Oh, yeah…"

"You want to perform a spell here?" Raven asked, but Kresk wasn't listening. The Fire Demon was counting the amount of open space by walking around the room with his hooves. Raven pleaded, "It just seems a little disr-"

"I see arcane guards! Yes, all in the corners of the room! And we could use these shelves for spare components! Ooh, and this mattress could be made into an altar with some spit and polish! Now, the wallpaper ruins the mood but that's nothing that a demon's touch can't fix…"

"I didn't know you took interior decorating." Raven said with a mocking smirk. She was mildly surprised when Kresk answered, "Eh, 317 came around and I was bored. Mortals only move so fast, don't you know." Raven only sighed again and queried, "So…you want to do a spell here?"

"Yeah, I'm thinking something along the Conjuration school, aren't you? Maybe some kind of greater demon or plague or some such. But that could be done anywhere. What we need here is something special, something…unique. I could pull out the Scrolls of Ahm, or maybe some pages from the Book of Mammon."

"I've read the Book of Mammon."

"Of course you have… Still, it has to be something good. What about the Scribings of Hrut? No, that'll never do. You only get the chance to summon something big AND possibly wipe out a city should things go south once every few decades. It has to be something fantastic, something cosmic, something…" At that moment, Kresk prostrated himself as his eyes glazed over in gleeful realization. He spoke in a monotone voice, "Child of mine, I'm going to be away for a while. Don't follow me or even try to scry on me. You may see me in your dreams. Do not enter this room. I'm going to have some lesser demons work on it." True to his word, Kresk summoned his familiar Nickis to his shoulder and commanded, "Nickis, get the cheapest and fastest labor you can find on the Abyss. I don't care if it's larvae and dretch, just do it and do it quick!" The quasit mockingly and melodramatically saluted his captain and squeaked out, "Yeas boess!" before he flew off.

"And where are you going, old demon?" Raven pondered. The Fire Demon, already leaving, turned around and smiled, "Over the mountains of the moon, and down the valley of shadow. Past the dark corners of the Earth, through Heaven and Inferno." And in a flash of fire, Kresk had disappeared.

* * *

It would be at least two weeks before Raven would see the Fire Demon once more. True to his word, the young mage often caught glimpses of red moving through her dreams like portals. Sometimes, she had nightmares of a gritty and grimy nature. One particular phantasm was running through what looked like an ancient tomb, spider webs covering the ancient vaulted ceiling. There was something behind her, she just knew it, but every time she turned around to fight or look at it, Raven found herself awake.

This nightmare played out like a story from a twisted oneiromancer's fairy tale. She went farther and farther into the depths of the cavernous sepulcher. At least two miles down (from what her dream self could gather), hieroglyphics on the walls showed a mosaic of primordial snake men and bird folk battling with amorphous darkness and flying barrels. But the peak of the dream was the finale. Raven found herself standing before a sarcophagus, but massive, twelve feet tall to be sure. The giant coffin was wrapped in chains and locked with bolts that could crush a man. And she knew, the young mage knew that whatever lied in that place was something old and black as sin and terrible…and hungry.

But Raven awoke. She was thankful that she would never know what lay in strange graves beneath the archaic womb of the world. And she blissfully believed that that was the end of the residents and dreams of the tomb. But that day, that day was only the beginning of her troubles with the contents of that coffin. For that was the day Kresk returned…

* * *

He came upon a midnight clear. Raven went to turn off the lights in the living room after a hard day, and he was standing there, invisible, in the center of the den. And in his hands, was a box. But oh, what a box; even from where she was standing, Raven could feel the years and malignancy coming off of the ebon cube. Darkness and terror crawled up the walls, trying to find a way to escape whatever greater madness lurked within. And standing like the head of the Crawling Chaos was Kresk, the oil and residue of the container pouring off of him.

Raven walked over to the Fire Demon. She couldn't really see the box that well through his claws, but it was obvious the aura had grown immensely stronger here. She asked, horror in her voice, "Uh, Kresk…What…What is that?" The demon, without moving any other part of his body, tilted his head so could he look at Raven. She wanted to scream when she looked into his eyes, for there had never been such a blank and maddened gaze of apathy and madness. In a hushed tone, he answered, "This girl…this is _it_. This is _THE_ book. The book to end all books. What I hold here is the damnation of a thousand thousands beings, for what I hold here is the dread tome of Alhazred. This…is the _NECRONOMICON_!"

Raven was aghast. It couldn't be true: the greatest tome of dark sorcery, here? It just wasn't possible! Secrets lay within that box, secrets that no mortal or immortal, god or demi-god should ever read, should ever know. This was the ultimate tome of madness. Kresk muttered to Raven, "Meet me in the ritual room. I won't open the chest without you."

"Do you…do you have a spell to open it?"

"Child of mine, no book in the multiverse deserves more respect than this tome. I will open the box with utmost discrepancy and respect. Now, I need some dragon urine and a hammer to bust off these chains."

* * *

In a few moments, Raven was in what had been Tera's room. She had to say, she liked the new decorations. The walls had been painted black, with swirls and sigils painted red into it. The window was blotted out by a large, decrepit cabinet (locked) and several shelves with jars of arcane components and scrolls on the holdings. A chest was now in the corner of the room, also locked. Tera's bed had unfortunately not been converted into an altar, but the mattress and had been destroyed, now replaced with a large table of sorts. Chairs were next to the 'table', anxiously awaiting a student to sit and study in them.

Kresk entered at last. A foul smell followed him, doubtlessly the dragon urine. "Are we ready?" Raven asked. Kresk was only able to reply in a shiver and a nod. He set the chest on the table, and stood waiting with eager hands. Now Raven could see the true hideousness of the box. The design was of tentacles squirming, grasping, and slithering about to grasp any sane mortal and pull him into their maddening embrace. There was no lock; Hell had no discrepancies against willing visitors. The ebon stone gleamed with distorted light and maddened doom.

Kresk, oh so gently, pushed the lid open, moving the container to reveal its secrets. A pale, purple light emanated from inside, cast from fungi of unknown and questionable origins. Raven's heart was beating; Kresk's palms were sweating blood. The Fire Demon reached inside the box and pulled out a smaller package. A dead, sick brown covering of soft skin awaited with a single button hiding the thick tome. Kresk unlatched the eager key, emblazoned with a black triangle, and pulled out the tome.

And there it was: the Necronomicon. Chief among all mad and dubious wanderings through the sea of pages in the multiverse. The entire book was wrapped in the leather of some elder race's skin, colored by inhuman blood. On the cover, a six-pointed star in the middle of a circle was emblazoned in bone. The whole thing was latched with a simple clip, an innocent minute terror that stood guard against the horrors of the Far Realms of existence. The pages were brittle and yellow as the skin of sinners in their slumber at the night of perpetual torture that is the grave. On the back was a warning, penned in ancient and anti-deluvian letters, an alphabet written before the boundaries of reality had ever been set, had ever been conceived, before gods were even the hair of a notion in the alien and vast minds of horrible intelligences that ruled and thrashed in the chaos of primordial birth. All this was but the mere skin, the mere exoskeleton of the terrible glory that was the Necronomicon.

Kresk shuddered as he held it in his paws. He held it tight to his chest as his eyes rolled back in his head. He let out a pleased and tenor moan as his knees buckled and drool poured from his mouth. A tear of blood rolled down his cheek. Yet another rasping and ecstatic breath escaped, followed by another groaning. Raven asked, "What was that?" Kresk, with his eyes still closed only said, "I think I just had an evilgasm."

* * *

Kresk disappeared once more, but this time, into the depths of the room of ritual. He searched the foul Necronomicon, descending deeper and deeper into its madness, sinking into the letters and runes with glorious abandonment and unreason. His mind was twisted by the foul corruption of the tome, screeching notes howled for thoughts. Then silence, merciful silence after every period and in every period, anything to alleviate the horror of the cold and glaring honesty the book presented him.

For what Kresk read was the truth, a terrible and dark revelation that seeped into his mind. In his heart, the Fire Demon had always known what he read here. For in the Abyss, there are ancient things, more terrible and vast than can even be comprehended. And these were only the younger and more comprehensible of the ancient times…

Raven did not disturb Kresk's study, instead abandoning him to wander in the desert of enlightenment, stripped of all garments of familiarity. Raven herself knew the value of silence, understood the joys of an uninterrupted reading. She found such oases rarely in the wilderness of noise. But how little did she know that she was letting Kresk cast his net far past the shores into the depths of the unknown. For reality is but just an island, and the seas are deep indeed.

After three days of study, he came to her; the Fire Demon spoke to his apprentice again. He was standing in the corner of the kitchen, his orange eyes glowing through the dusk. But in them were the flames of zealotry and inspiration. When nobody was listening, Raven walked over and asked, "You doing okay?"

Silence, only silence. The demon stared into blank space. Raven only breathed out, "Okay…" and backed away. As the young mage retreated, Kresk called to her, "They spoke to me."

"What?"

"They have spoken to me. I have heard their call. They demand that I bring them here so they may be free once more."

"Who is 'they'?"

"The Dragons Below, who are the One and the Three, the great kings of serpents and Flying Polyps. We must bring them here tonight."

"What? Are you insane? Oh, of course you are…"

"They only want what is best for us. You must help me. They spoke to me. I have heard their call. Tonight, be ready for the summoning."

"Do you have any idea what you're doing? Any idea of what could go wrong here?"

"Whoever believes in the Dragons shall not die, but live forever."

"I suppose this means that you have to give up drinking and gambling for your new found gods?"

"I'm celibate right now."

Raven only sighed and rubbed her eyes. "Do I have any choice in the matter?"

"Not really. Either you help or I give a sacrifice." Raven only groaned again after this, asking, "What do you need me to do?"

The ritual room hadn't changed much since Raven was last in it. The table was still in place, but the shelves and cabinets had been bolted down. Across the tables surface was an assortment of books, keys, and veritable Rosetta Stones for unlocking the secrets of the Necronomicon. In the center of the room, a magic circle had been drawn. The outer ring was inlaid with symbols and wheels to enhance the call. On the inside, a strange variation of inward curving triangle had been drawn and accentuated with jewels.

Raven walked in as Kresk was rummaging through a chest. "Alright, I'm here. Now where's the flute?" she asked. Kresk had requested that Raven play an odd flute he had found so as to please the Dragons Below when they arrived. She had protested that she had no training in the instrument; he told her that was for the best. Only mortal ears could perceive the rhythms and notes of material music. And the Dragons Below were far from material.

Kresk threw something to Raven and said, "Here put these on." Raven unfurled her cargo to look at it. One object was a long robe that, fully revealed, touched the floor. It was dusty and made up of cornhusks woven into burlap. The other item was a matching mask, similarly made of cornhusks and burlap. However, there was a clear space for the face, where a hole had been cut for a wide grin and two more punctures for eyes. "What's with the robes?" Raven asked. "The Dragons Below would be most displeased to learn that humanoids summoned them here. We must let them ease into this world."

Raven only shook her head as she slipped the robe on. It went past her feet, and the burlap scratched her bare legs. The next item was the mask; it smelled of dust and decay, and the mage felt her face grow hot under it. The young mage could see that Kresk was dawning his own mask. His was simpler, yet more terrifying. The top was a round, smooth circle that obscured his face, but left just enough room for his eyes. The lower portion was a mass of tentacles and antennae. As Kresk tied the straps in place on the back of his head, the tentacles began to move and feel through the air. Raven understood; in order for Kresk to speak even a syllable of this spell, he would need the mouth of its speaker.

"Are you prepared?" Kresk asked telepathically. "As I'll ever be." Raven responded. "Good. Remember child, what we do here tonight, we do for the glory of our race. What we do her tonight can never be undone. And what we do here tonight can never be repeated in the oceans of time. And now, I preach the hymns of the Dragons Below. And I say, hit it maestro!" Obviously, Kresk still retained some of his old vigor. Raven took the flute off the table, put it to her lips, and began to blow out random notes, moving her fingers like seizuring spiders.

Kresk opened the Necronomicon and began to recite the words within its tome. Words of madness, syllables of insanity, vowels of pain echoed through the air in the tentacle tongue. Raven could feel the strength, that hideous arcane strength, flow through her and the room. The circle began to glow and waver, beams of light coming from the outward most spirals. The triangle in the center moved and twisted in upon itself. Faster and faster, a virtual maelstrom, it swirled and coiled, ignited by the ritual, soon, there was no triangle, only a circle of light within the ritual's domain.

And it occurred to Raven, that the gate was open now. In that circle, just beyond that dreadful edge, was a godless no man's land of horrors unknowable and uncounted. They were daring to peer into the abysses of farther places, into the Far Realms that lay beyond our own tepid pond of justified existence. And now, now something was coming, rising from the depths.

The lights from the outer circles raised themselves high, barriers to protect Kresk and Raven. Kresk still chanted his obscene song while Raven called the horrors forward. Rising from the pool of light, three snakes of luminescence rose and twisted and danced to the horrible fluting of the pipe. But they grew, larger and larger, expanding in their hideous dance. And Raven knew what would happen next.

In an instant, there was the sound of a crash, a slamming of all that was material as the magical barrier broke. The three serpents disappeared, but only for a moment. And in that second, in that quiet space of time, Kresk lifted his mask to ponder, "What in ze-"

Kresk was interrupted in his profanity by the reappearance of a tentacle. It reared up for a moment, an angry monster surging forward from the illuminated depths. It lunged forward and wrapped itself around Kresk's legs, pulling the demon forward as he fell down. The Fire Demon bellowed and screamed like a gutted boar pleading for one last run through the forest. He rolled onto his stomach and unsheathed his claws. Surging one hand forward, the talons dug into the floor as the other hand followed and Kresk tried to crawl forward. But even with his strength and the leverage of his paws, the tentacle was still pulling Kresk towards the vortex that even now drew paper, jars, and other debris into its maw. Raven was finally able to discern through the nonsensical babbling, for Kresk's mask had fallen off, the clear cry, "RAVEN! HEEELP MEEE!"

"What about the Dragons Below?"

"SCREW THE DRAGONS BELOW! I WANT TO LIIIVE!" Raven, in a panic, asked, "What should I do? What should I do?"

"FINISH THE INCANTATION! OH, FOR GODS' SAKE, FINISH IT!" Raven ran over to the dropped Necronomicon. Kresk screamed louder, "I'M TOO PRETTY TO DIIIEE!"

"I can't read this!"

"THE MASK! PUT! ON! THE MASK! IT'LL HELP YOU!" Raven quickly found the tentacled mask as it was being drawn to the vortex. She tied the knot behind her head. As she looked at the Necronomicon now, the runes spinned and changed until they resembled Draconic. And so, words ready, Raven began to say the incantation.

"Oh, hear me, Dragons Below, masters of the eight seas of Kordan, heralds of the Crawling Chaos-"

Kresk screamed out, "YEA GODS, THOUGH I WALK THROUGH SHADOW OF THE VALLEY OF DEATH, I FEAR ALL EVIL, FOR THOU HAST ABANDONED ME AND LEFT ME TO DIE-"

"We, your humble servants beseech you, rise, rise from the void, from the bottomless pit, and bestow upon us the glories-"

"DOOM! WE'RE ALL DOOOMED! WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE!" Kresk howled, as he was pulled further.

"Dance with us, as you danced with the ghouls and the strigae in the light of the bronze moons of Alecteckan, and do not think of us in our pains-"

"Ooh, that feels kind of good and OH GODS, THERE ARE SPIKES! THERE ARE JAGGED SPIKES! FASTER! READ FASTER!" Kresk was now halfway engulfed by the pit, his torso hidden by the floor.

"Mother Void, womb of wombs, father to the Black Goat in the Woods with her Forty Thousand Young, we beseech you to let your children sing to us and bless us with their presence. Give us your secrets, and we shall give you in return-"

"GIVE US THIS DAY OUR DAILY BLOOD, AND FORGIVE US OUR TRESPASSES, AS WE MOLEST THOSE WHO SPITED AGAINST US, AND LEAD US IN TO TEMPTATION-" Kresk moaned as now only his arms and head were above the circle.

"For your glory is boundless, and I say the name of the one who calls you his domain, the name which the Black Pharaoh Nyarlathotep protects from human ears, I invoke the name of Az-" The letters ended there as the inscription ended. There was a rumbling, as the light grew brighter. A roar, a mighty bestial roar emerged from the pit. Such a roar it was, defying all explanation, for it was as no sound any animal or instrument could make or imitate in its fury. The light grew brighter and brighter, until at last Raven covered her eyes with a shield of darkness. Even in her umbra, she was aware of the blazing sun and the roar growing louder. At last, there was an explosion, a boom that nearly shattered the cambion's ears and then silence.

Raven opened her eyes to the darkness and gasped in terror. Lying where the circle had been, were the Dragons Below. They were huge and gray, as long as school buses, yet somehow they curled in on themselves. They were long, like snakes or lampreys, and their skin was scabbed and scaly. Interrupting the skin was the occasional small mouth, pincer, eye, or even a tiny wing. Small tentacles sprouted here and there as well, serving as rudimentary legs. The tails ended in paddle like flukes, although they were asymmetrical and weathered. But the heads were truly horrifying, if they could be called heads. To be fair, they might have been called mouths. A ring of gigantic, sharp, oval teeth surrounded a softer darker flesh. Following the teeth was a series of various other tentacles, obviously used for feeding. And in the center was a hole flanked by six, curving scimitar talons. A ring of pure bright blue eyes was on the body just before the teeth. But Raven couldn't help but notice that there were only _two_ Dragons Below here. Where was the third?

Looking up, Raven saw the last of the triumvirate on the ceiling. It had unfurled its body and was now spread out like a pseudonatural python. It was moving a large lump through its body towards its mouth. Its head expanded to nearly twice its size. Raven was disgusted to see a huge, fleshy proboscis emerge from inside the tentacles, where the inner hole and mouth claws were. It slithered to in front of Raven, regurgitating the giant piece of vomit. Red slowly appeared and ended in a moist Kresk. He was soaked from head to toe in a foul and brown green slime that smelled of all the dead fish in the world. He was shivering uncontrollably and he was able to stutter out, "I…I…I…I have seen things. Horrible things. Terrible things. Things no man has ever seen before or should ever HAVE to see."

"Are you alright?" Raven asked, concerned for the demon's health.

"I'VE BEEN VIOLATED!" the Fire Demon cried out. One of the Dragons shifted in its slumber. Kresk yelped when he saw it, and again when he saw the other one on the ceiling. Raven mockingly said, "They're kind of cute when they're sleeping."

"Yeah, then they wake up and the next thing you know you're screaming for your mind as pincers rip off your ears! Hey, where's it going?" The gravity defying Dragon was crawling with its ventral and side tentacles, barely little lungfish toes if anything, towards the door. Ignoring reality, it moved straight through the wall on to the ceiling outside. Raven and Kresk chased after it. It crawled right off the hallway ceiling and slithered through the living room air. Moving to the side, none of the other Titans noticed it, enamored with their comedy as they were. In fact, they had not known that anything was wrong thanks to Kresk's arcane barrier. Their only hint was a slight power surge when the circle was broken. The Dragon hit the window and crawled right through. It put its suckers on the glass and slithered down. Raven and (invisibly) Kresk ran up to the window. The Dragon only crawled down the tower leaving a trail of slime and sucker prints. It reached the shore of the island before it crawled into the ocean, the most familiar thing to its alien mind. It slithered in to the inky depths and searched for aquatic mysteries.

Raven and Kresk watched as the Dragon departed for submarine trenches. "What you looking at, Rae?" Beast Boy asked. "Fish, really big fish."

"Really? Awesome!"

"It's gone now. Oh gods, I hope it is."

"What?"

"Nothing, forget it."

Raven asked Kresk in his mind, "What do we do about the Necronomicon?"

"Don't worry. I know a place where it'll be in safe hands." The Fire Demon replied.

Three weeks later, the dean of Miskatonic University was greeted by a strange thing on his doorstep. A little, ugly man handed him a box, and told him it was for the University's private collection.

* * *

**In case you're all wondering, this was before Raven showed Kresk to the Titans. And don't thank me for the word 'evilgasm'. Thank Xykon. Happy Halloween!**


	2. On Origins

**On Origins:**

**Wherein the Young Heroine**

**(And Half-Demon)**

**Raven has Her Genuine Parentage Revealed to Her Friends and Relations.**

* * *

"Her look at her father, half admiring him and proud of him, half ashamed for him, all devoted and loving, went to his inmost heart."

- Charles Dickens,_Little Dorrit_

"They say that blood is thicker than water. Maybe that's why we fight our own with more energy and gusto than we would ever expend on strangers."

- David Assael,_Northern Exposure, Family Feud, 1993_

It is said that all things, sentient or otherwise, are the total sums of their past. And all things begin with their progenitors, their parents. It should be noted here that all of these said beings have parents; even pebbles started from the ejaculations of a hurricane and erosion in to the womb of a larger rock. Hence, all things are born somehow.

Now, it is the common nature of the multiverse that most subjects have fascinating parents. Whether they choose admit or not is entirely within their grasp, but the fact remains; these creators are spectacular beings. Mothers, fathers, larger rocks, plants, etc. all have some extraordinary flaw that force their offspring to differ towards them. In short: all the multiverse's parents are weird. And those parents who are not at all strange but are that sickening condition heretofore know as 'normal' are perhaps the single most corrupt and disturbing force in existence. Truly, and thankfully, average parents are a rare commodity.

But even rarer than these freaks of nature are parents who outshine all those around them. Be it by looks, income, or actions, especially actions, these parents earn themselves a famous (or infamous) reputation to follow them. And so it was with Graz'zt. There was never a demon quite like Graz'zt in the annals of the multiverse; Prince of Shadows, Lord of the Triple Layer Realm, King of Lamias, Sire of Harpies, Khan of Shade, Imperator of Dusk; all this and so much more was Graz'zt. Graz'zt was one of the greatest demons to ever stalk across the Infinite Hatred of the Abyss, a true Demiurge who commanded the forces of life and lust. For the Prince of Shadows' sexual appetite was unbounded and unequal to any other male in the Abyss. (Malcanthet, Queen of the Succubae, was the master of females.)

And this was but one of many ways that Graz'zt earned his infamy; the Demiurge was the father of millions upon millions of half-demons, for immortals have time for such things. But a few of his innumerable progeny included Vaprak, the god of Ogres and Trolls, Iuz the Ancient, a god of terrible magic, Athux, the half-elf commander of the demon's armies, and Thraxia, Graz'zt's daughter and private assassin. And these are but the more notable cambions to come from the demon's loins. All across the multiverse, uncounted half-demons owe their birth to Graz'zt and witch followers. For the Dark Prince makes it a habit to appear at any witch's sabot and raise his sires among the mortal women attending.

And that, children of the night, is what brings the roving eye to the young cambion who is quite familiar to many. She is known only by her mortal name, bestowed upon her to reflect her place in the machine of destiny: Raven Roth. Now, for many years this young sorceress suspected that she was in fact the spawn of another demon that went by the name of Trigon. However, this was false information directly planted by the four-eyed fiend himself. He had planted this information in a last bid to gain influence over an heir in his old age. Blood is thicker than water, after all. Needless to say, as all men and women know, it backfired. Badly, it should be added.

Now, not long before this, the young Ms. Roth met a certain fire demon by the name of Kresk. No further explanations are needed on that. Suffice to say, Raven found that it was in fact Graz'zt who was her father, not Trigon. Why was this information never revealed to anyone save other demons? Put simply, for an easier conscience on Raven's fellow mortal's parts. No matter how great and powerful and terrifying Trigon was, he was literally almost nothing compared too the sheer will and force of Graz'zt. Trigon conquered planets; Graz'zt conquered realities. And so, Raven shamefully hid her pedigree.

But things must come to light; Raven, like her fellow Titans and even her father, was the sum of her past. And Graz'zt was a very important part of her past. And so it was that, in time, the true origins of Raven were revealed to the mortal world. It began, to be blunt, with chili.

Cyborg's five meat chili was the irrefutable proof to many bovines, lambs, porcines, and avians that there was no god watching out for them anymore. Even then, it was cooking in a massive pot, red boiling with peppers and ground chuck spices to form a monstrous concoction so absurd it had to taste wonderful. Where exactly this infamous recipe came from, none could say, although Victor's fellow Titans attributed it to the robot's grandmother. Starfire and Robin were basic fanatics; it was food, and Starfire said it reminded her of home (although this was more of a hindrance than a help).

Raven was, as usual, indifferent. But then again, she had always been uncaring to the outside world. It seemed to have increased ever since she got back from her three-week absence with Kresk. One morning she was simply gone, and she did not reappear for nearly a month. Robin still had a vivid image of her return branded in his mind. It was just a little after sunset, in the weary shade of light that lay across all dusty travelers, that he was looking out the window as he always did. And there, walking on the water was Raven and Kresk. Strangely, there was a third ripple beside them. Robin alerted the other Titans and they rushed down in glorious fray. When they got to the waterfront, Starfire had wanted to hug Raven in one of her Herculean embraces, but the mage was talking to the Fire Demon. Robin couldn't make out what they were saying, but Raven bent down and let whatever invisible presence was following them lick her face. At that, she returned…in a way.

For she was still so aloof. She would disappear for hours on end, even abandoning her room, and come back quietly. But maybe it was just Richard's view; after all, he could never recall a time when Raven wasn't constantly seeking introversion. Robin pushed the thoughts from his mind and returned to the present. Beast Boy was staring at the chili, a disgusted snarl on his nose and lips. He growled, "Okay, there is no way I'm even touching that stuff!"

"No one's got a gun to your head. Go eat some of your tofurkey or whatever that crap in the fridge is. It takes up enough space." Cyborg replied.

"Hey! At least what I eat is healthy! Do you know what this stuff _does_ to you?"

"Yeah, but that's when you think with a regular body. Whenever _my _body starts to mess up, I just go in for a tune up and I'm good as new. So shut up already!" the half-construct protested; he would not, under any circumstances, have his food questioned. Beast Boy only continued to stare in to the bubbling mass of sauce and meat, groaning, "It still looks nasty…" Indeed, to the vegetarian and commuter of animals, this was a veritable culinary Hell, an abyss of spice and sorrow to his bestial brethren. So Beast Boy should have been a little less surprised when a demon popped out.

The changeling was looking at what appeared to be a toenail that was hanging out of what looked like hamburger. In a flash, it revealed itself to be a miniscule claw attached to a tiny hand. The hand grasped at the outer edges of the pot, accompanied by a matching palm. Like young fresh from the womb, a small demon jumped on top of Beast Boy's head. It resembled, for this was the first time the Titans had seen it, a strange hybrid of lizard, bat, and spider monkey. It perched on Garfield's head, waving its barbed tail. It spread its leathery wings in full and shook off the edible afterbirth of Cyborg's chili. In a squeaking voice filled with urgency, Nickis, Kresk's familiar, squeaked out, "Ravine! Ravine! De boess needs yur elp in de sumting!"

Nickis was the latest of Kresk's many familiars. The Fire Demon always made sure to pick some form of creature with an amount of spunk, which was why he had yet to find a replacement for Nickis. In his long life, Kresk had never met a quasit, or almost any other demonling, with such a foul mouth and crude disposition yet the benefit of somewhat sincere loyalty and stealth. Hence, he kept the lesser demon by his side. Raven, without looking up from her book (_Theories on the Prime Material Plane and Its Direct Correspondence to the Theory of the Element of Quintessence_), said, "Nickis, don't touch that thing. You don't know where he's been."

Beast Boy was already indignant from the demon on his head, and Raven's words were just salt in the wound. Nickis hopped off of the shape changer's head on to the center of the table and continued to speak in butchered English, "Ravine, Kresk needs yur elp! Hes opning a –" Nickis was suddenly aware that the other Titans were listening and watching intently. He stared at all of them with his hateful red eyes before he spread his wings and flew on to Raven's shoulder. The mage set her book down as the quasit said, "Les tok elzere, aweigh frum de umans." Raven got up and walked into the living room, accompanied by Nickis who was still pawing chili out of his horns and wings. When they felt they were a safe distance away, Nickis whispered into Raven's ear, occasionally garnering a cryptic and enticing response:

(Whisper)

"Yes, I know."

(Whisper)

"Of course I remember. How could I not?"

(Whisper)

"With machines, but why?"

(Whisper)

"Bert and his crazy ideas…"

(Whisper)

"Pseudo-Arcane Technological Enhancement, huh?"

(Whisper)

"Oh, for Hell's sake."

(Prolonged, eager whisper)

"That much electricity could put the west coast back into the Dark Ages. Alright, I'll help. Just let me grab a few components and I'll be ready to go." At that, Nickis departed from Raven's shoulder as the young sorceress departed for her room. Nickis flew back to the chili pot and prepared to dive back in. He held his nose and tucked his wings before Starfire interjected for the first time. The extraterrestrial was under the current impression that, while hideous, Nickis was the cutest demon she had ever seen. Of course this conclusion was based solely on the visual evidence of Kresk, Trigon, Trigon's minions, Demon Clowns, a myrmixicus, and a Frost Giant. In her good nature, Kori offered an insulting helping hand, "Little demonling, you are covered in meat stew. Perhaps you would like it if I cleaned you off? I have a Granaxian worm soap that makes their scales shiny as new; I'm sure it would work for you." Starfire smiled and beamed some more, proud at offering aid to a being of such evil. Nickis, absolute disgust and repulsion on his face, snarled a dire insult in Abyssal. _("I long for the day when I may violate your flesh with broken glass!")_ Not understanding the language, Kori only stared in incomprehension as the quasit plunged back through the temporary chili portal.

* * *

Samus Aran dodged and leaped over fireballs and arrows as she struck down Link on her way to Mario. She prepared to unleash a short-range missile but was countered with a flurry of punches from Mario. Stuck on the ground, she wasn't nearly fast enough before the champion of Hyrule surprised her and drove his sword through her. She shot off the stage and disappeared over the acid sea, a blink in the distance. And in reality, Cyborg yelled in annoyance. The half-robot yelled out, "Oh come on, that was such a cheap move!"

"It's cheap because it works!" Robin retorted. He wasn't paying attention enough to see that Beast Boy (Link) was rushing Mario off the stage into a pool of acid. The plumber cried out before he too plummeted off into the void of acid. Robin, miffed, protested, "Now THAT was cheap!"

"If the shoe fits!" Beast Boy countered. So far, his record for Super Smash Bros. Melee champion had yet to be broken. Mario and Samus reappeared, and Cyborg and Robin looked at each other, understanding the new strategy. Samus unleashed an energy beam, coupled with Mario blasting an inferno of fireballs. Link was down, defenseless for just the right moment. Victory, sweet victory in the competitors' grasp, they both rushed Link, prepared to give a final deathblow to the already wounded hero. And at that moment, the electricity was cut off.

Howls of anguish and rage filled the living room. "Why?! Why now?!" Cyborg bemoaned. Beast Boy, making the best of the situation, announced, "Well, looks like I'm still king!" Robin sighed despondently, "Well, we might as well get ready. The complaints are going to be pouring in soon enough. Power outages in a city always give _somebody_ ideas."

"But Robin, I believe it may be just us. The city does not appear to be in any trouble." Starfire observed. The other Titans checked the window. Indeed, as Kori had said, the city seemed to still have its power. Cyborg grumbled, "Lousy generator, always messing up when it… All right, we'll just have to make some repairs to it. It'll take a while, but it's got to get done. Just let me get my tools." Cyborg, donning his shoulder light, disappeared to his den before emerging with a box of devices, prepared like a surgeon for a heart transplant. He began the descent downstairs, and the other Titans, out of boredom and sympathy, followed.

The Titans' basement was filled with vaults, boxes, and supplies. Behind a heavy door lay the power generator for the house. It had links to the city, insuring that when the metropolis suffered from electrical drought the Titans would too, without emergency precautions. Cyborg went into the room, opening one of the hatches for the generator. Starfire had lit a bolt, providing extra luminescence, and Beast Boy and Robin followed. And there, like a parasite, sat an odd stone on one of the power outlets. It was black, jagged, and covered with runes. But most importantly, there was a note. "What the hell is that thing?" Cyborg wondered aloud. Robin sidled in and picked up the note, written on stale parchment. It was covered with an unusual, somewhat deformed cursive. It read, as follows:

DearMorons,

It has come to my attention that I require a large amount of electricity for a private project of mine. As sources have informed me, I cannot withdraw such energy from the public domain, and hence must garner it from private areas, namely, your house. It has also come to my attention that you owe me a significant amount of currency for living on my property over the last few years. To be accurate, you owe me some odd $865, 359. 55 (1999 Standard American Dollar, if you please), taking into account rent, resources, tariffs, taxes, interest, and property damage, to say nothing of credit and public fees. However, it has come to my attention, via private resources (Raven), that you cannot pay this amount of currency, much less in Abyssal golden or drow platinum coins. As such, I have reached a compromise; I will merely TAKE a token amount of resources from you as I see fit. Alternatively, I can kill you or banish you to Carceri, aka Tarterus, the ironically named Prison of the Titans. My resources have informed me that this too would be an unwise decision. If you have any complaints about my actions, please take them to my representative, guard, secretary, or familiar.

Yours Truly,

Delayed Explosive Runes

"Delayed Explosive Ru-" Robin began to mutter. A mild explosion followed this from the piece of paper. The force knocked Robin back as his hair was singed and skin burned a little. It didn't kill him, but it hurt to be sure. "Robin!" Starfire fretted, rushing over to Richard. The paper had fallen to the ground. Beast Boy, with animalistic curiosity, picked it up and read the back.

This device is a magical implement. It is currently siphoning the extra energy that I, Kreskarius the Fire Demon, need.

I wish you many inconveniences and your sheer idiocy astounds me for continuing to read this,

Delayed Explosive Runes

This time, Garfield was knocked on his back from the small explosion. Cyborg pulled off the device with a growl and threw it on the ground. Robin was finally getting on to his feet; singe marks on his face and Kori on his arm, while Beast Boy lay in a stupor on the ground. Cyborg helped him to his feet as Robin gritted in his teeth. In a voice that none of the other Titans had heard since the days of Slade, he snarled out the name of his antagonist, "Kresk!" The Boy Wonder turned around, cape billowing, and marched off to the layer of the Fire Demon, other Titans in tow.

Robin, naturally hateful as he was, was quickly at the door to Kresk's abode. Surprisingly, the gate had not disappeared and stayed in plain sight. Bursting through the door of the portal, he marched down the warpath that was the hallway. Bormulk, Kresk's faithful nalfeshnee, had his massive boar head in his hand and was snoozing quietly. The Titans were soon in the main hall of the Fire Demon's home, his den where they had all eaten dinner before Raven and Kresk departed.

A small crowd had assembled around a singular demon of sorts. Hanging from one of Kresk's marilith pillars by a rope, the (presumably) demon's clothes were more like the bandages of a beggar, wrapping around his slim form and hanging loose around his legs and arms. A belt was on his waist, adorned with a dagger and small pouches. He wore a black cowl, which flowed off his shoulders as his taloned feet grasp the gilded column. His skin was rust brown with dashes of black here and there, and pockmarked from his heritage. His face was hideous, a mask of bestial disgust. His nose was round and flat, barely leaving his head like a cat's. His ears were small and pointed, adorned with several rings. His huge eyes were dull yellow and had no irises to be seen, being only two tepid orbs. And his hair was coarse, drawn back, spiked, and alabaster, not a lustrous shade, but the dull paleness of a forgotten corpse. One of his more distinguishable features was that each hand had six fingers on it. Around him was gathered a crowd of strange and extraplanar beings. The succubae sighed as he talked, thinking of a reward they could give for this weary wanderer. Ch'tar stood nearby; his giant claws reared up like a mantis's while his small hand stayed crossed. Near him, a tall woman with purple, leathery skin and black horns stood by, a Night Hag from Hades. Close by her was her mount and companion, a Nightmare, resembling horse with ebony fur and fire for a mane and hooves. A trio of Carnage Demons, muscles bulging and red eyes gleaming, stood nearby. And a pillar of shadow wavered like a flame on reality, watching with two lanterns of flickering ivory. (This was why, when the Titans entered, none thought that they looked particularly strange.)

But the demon was drawing attention with his voice; despite being hideous, his tone was melodious, and he somehow managed to say everything in rhyme:

_Rejoice! Rejoice! Ye creatures of night!_

_The bravest of demons has won his good fight!_

_With arms poised with fury and eyes full of green light,_

_The great hero Graz'zt has reclaimed his black right!_

Starfire was enchanted by the melody, but was drawn away by the hunting Robin. The Titans were quickly near Janys' bowl, where the slime only raised herself a little at their passing. They weren't important enough for a full manifestation, to say nothing more. Soon they were in Kresk's office, only to find the Fire Demon gone elsewhere. Robin huffed before he turned around, practically shoving Garfield down to reach the hall again. The demon was still singing his merry tune for his companions outside.

_The renegade, he tried to hide,_

_And take more treasures that belong at the side_

_Of their owner, their master, father and prince_

_The price was quite for high for fool's defiance!_

It was true that the demon had a remarkable form, but the pugilist Richard dragged his troop into the back halls. He opened three doors, disturbing a kappa in an artificial pond, several winged apes, and a large naga in the process. This continued until Robin heard the sound of lightning crackling and the shouting of the Fire Demon's voice. The Titans made their way to the square entrance of large, metal room. At one end, occupying a significant corner was a series of controls, levers, switches, and cables, manipulated by the adept Raven. In the middle, a huge glass tank filled with water and a colossal humanoid form wrapped in cotton sheets. Standing above the tank on a floating platform, Kresk stood waiting with a tray of potions. Listening close, the Titans could hear him muttering in a singsong voice, "A dash of yellow! A splotch of red! A dabble of blue!" As he said this, he threw the respective potions in. Over the whir of nearby machinery, Raven yelled, "Is this really necessary?"

"Yes! An old friend taught me and I'll be damned if it'll be forgotten this way!"

"How will this help with the portal?"

"All in good time, child of mine! Now, HIT THE SWITCH!" At this, Raven pushed a large lever upwards. Electricity surged with buffalo speed through cables that led to devices on the thing in the tank. Waterproof, the wires writhed with anaconda ecstasy, urging the thing to life. It began to twitch and struggle in its artificial womb, much to the Titan's horror. To Kresk and Raven, it was just another day at the mill.

The body struggled, but as it moved, it got weaker and weaker. Raven was observing the meters on the machines. Kresk, unlike Bert, was a simple man (demon). Where as Bert would have needed coded binary signals and flashing Morse code to tell him the status of his contraptions, Kresk preferred more archaic. Hence, the meters only said that there was either 'Less' electricity and power, or 'More'. When the experiment had begun, the meter had said 'More'. It was now dangerously on 'Less'. Raven warned, "Kresk! We're losing power! We might want to cancel!"

"What?! We should have enough power to light up San Fran single-handedly! Where'd it all go?!"

"The charts say it's bleeding out of some loose circuits."

"It's energy! How is that even possible?!"

"I don't know, but we're going to have to stop right now."

"Alright, shut her off." Raven flipped the switch and the coils stopped dancing. The thing in the tank laid still, bubbles rising to the surface from its movements. Kresk manipulated the platform to the floor so he could step off. Raven walked over to the Fire Demon as he sighed, "Ah, Tim Curry in fish-net stockings, we'll just have to try again another time. Maybe we could try and connect to the Quasi-Elemental Plane of Lightning. Eh, but that's almost more trouble than just trying by hand."

"I could find my way by myself, you know."

"No doubt, but I'm not sure I like the thought of you wandering Pandemonium alone. Not with all those wights around."

"What is going on here?!" Robin finally yelled out. Kresk looked over towards his direction, bemused, and said. "Damn. I should really check the walls. Vermin keep nibbling through…"

"You stole electricity from us! You made a sheet of paper explode in my face! You tried to raise that…thing! What makes you think you can just do that in our home in and not expect us to do anything?!"

"Huh, and here I was thinking it was always the pelvis thrust that really drives you insane…"

"Just drop it! Okay?"

"Why? This is MY house, not YOURS. I was on this island years before any of you were born. Now unless you want to warp time and kick me off while you're still sperm, than you can promptly SHOVE IT, with a sword I might add."

"Yeah? Well YOUR home is in MY tower! So I think I have a say here!"

"Ah! And now the monster crawls forward at last! Here we all were, talking about 'our' tower, which is now for some reason 'your' tower! Well, that's what it boils to in the end, isn't it Richard? Everything is yours, just as soon as something's wrong."

"Don't try to pin this on me! You have no right! Raven, help me out here." All eyes turned to the half-demon. Before her was the choice of her entire existence. On the one hand, there was Robin, the other Titans, the Material Plane, and familiarity. On the other hand was Kresk, her heritage, the rest of the multiverse, and the unexplainable. Raven, being a sensible young woman, put her feet on both sides of the ground, "Robin, he really was here _first_. I think he has a point when it comes to property decisions. And on top of that, he didn't really hurt anybody. A few pranks don't really count towards kicking him out or anything like that."

"Ha!" Kresk growled with glee. Before Robin could protest, Raven turned to the Fire Demon and said, "But I don't think that gives _you_ the license to directly steal stuff, energy or not. And I think your pranks could be a little more…harmless. Fireballs and explosions are a bit much, don't you think?"

"Absolutely not!" Kresk huffed. Raven searched for yet more compromise, "Look, how about I help you with your 'little projects', but you have to keep it on this side of the door, so to speak. You get my aid if you try to draw from other planes."

"What? That's minotaur crap and you know it!"

"Kresk, you are literally getting an infinity of infinities, not to mention several material spheres. That's my final offer." The Fire Demon snorted through his nostrils, "Fine."

"In return, Robin, all of you as a matter of fact, have to stay out of Kresk's home. You can't just barge in here blaming everything on Kresk or chasing the succubae."

"What? I wouldn't…" Robin flustered, trying to defend his chastity in front of Starfire. Beast Boy and Cyborg, on the other hand, had nothing to account for. Raven continued negotiations, "Good. Then we're agreed that Kresk's side of the door is his, and Robin's is the rest of this reality's. Anything else?"

"I demand a sacrifice of a black virgin and 666 Greyhawk gold pieces every month as rent." Kresk demanded.

"No." Robin rebuffed.

"Dead chickens?"

"Absolutely not."

"Virgins?"

"Good luck."

"Silver?"

"Doesn't that hurt you?"

"You're thinking of werewolves and vampires. Moron. On that note, what about platinum?"

"I'll say this slowly for you: N.O."

"Shrewd. Fine, after that you have nothing I want." Raven gave a sigh of relief, "Good. Now both of you shake on it." Kresk and Robin glared venom at her. Raven glared right back, and the two decided not to take their chances against an angry adolescent half-demon girl. Kresk extended a paw, and Robin received, grasping the lower part of Kresk's palm. The two gritted their teeth during the whole process before releasing. Robin promptly removed his green glove and threw it on the ground when Raven wasn't looking, pulling a spare from his vest. Kresk took no such precautions, pulling out a handkerchief and spitting on it before rubbing his claws with it. Raven massaged her temples, hoping this would never have to happen again.

The young mage looked up and said to Kresk, "Look, I'm going to call it a day. Send Nickis if you need anything else."

"All right, kiddo. Remember, chaos is just another word for nothing left to lose."

Raven grinned a little at this and walked out. Kresk stayed and tapped the glass of the huge tank as the Titans departed, following Raven's tracks. Robin sped up and asked, "Why do you put up with him? He's such a prick…"

"He's family. He might be rough, crude, and lack even a shred of actual moral conscience, but he's still family." Raven replied. "No, he isn't. He's just a leech, and that's all." Robin enjoined. Raven frowned at Robin, telling, "Look; my mother's dead, my father's dead, the monks of Azerath are dead, and I have no brothers or sisters. I'm alone. I thought you, at least, might understand that. You have to find family where it is." In an instant, Raven had been knocked to the floor.

As she lay on her back, a trail of drool traveled along her face. Something large and invisible was weighing her down. Looking closer, the keener eyed Titans could see some kind of bestial shimmering on top of Raven. The cambion only continued, adding, "Like Sasha here." There was a purring coming from the thing on top of Raven. It moved off of her and sat down, as near as Beast Boy could tell. Raven lifted herself up and wiped the creature's drool off her face. Beast Boy asked, "What is that thing?"

"This is Sasha. She's a devil we found on the first layer of Hell, Avernus, a Hellcat to be precise. The rest of her pride didn't want her because of some deformity she has, so a circus we visited took her in. One thing led to another and she wound up of following me and Kresk home. She's been living in here, for the most part, though you might have sensed her wandering around."

"That thing is a demon? How-"

"Devil."

"What?"

"She's a devil, not a demon. There is a difference, you know."

"Whatever. How do you know it's a cat, or even a she?"

"Simple. Keep your eyes open." Raven raised up her hand and generated a hollow black hemisphere, preventing light from hitting the Hellcat. The other Titans made for various methods of luminance, but Raven said, "Don't." quickly. In total darkness, the umbramancer asked the devil, "Sasha, if you please." There was a flash from the Hellcat's direction. The fiend was soon ignited in white, flaming energy. Looking at it, Beast Boy saw a creature resembling a hybrid of bear and lion. Its thick body was mounted upon strong legs and large paws. Its tail was fat, but too short for an average feline and too long to be a bear's. The head wasn't even discernable; there was just a block topped with round ears that opened its muzzle and let out a mixture of ursine bellow and catlike growl. Raven took down the shield of darkness, and the moment light hit Sasha, she was invisible again.

"She keeps following me, so I guess she'll stay in my room for now." Raven said, rubbing behind the Hellcat's ears. She walked away, Sasha close at hand, and Cyborg said in his usual elder sibling tone, "It's good to see her this happy." He went forward, the other Titans in tow, wondering how much the food bill for an invisible devil cat was.

And it was then that the universe, being the cruel sadist it is, unleashed its trap. For as Raven walked into the main hall of Kresk's home, she saw the singing demon out front and hid behind a corner in shock. Just looking at him, even for the briefest of moments, told Raven that this was her half-brother, one of several million, anyway. She had always known that there was a good chance that she would see one of her siblings sooner or later, she just hadn't expected it to be at her house, or even her planet. And yet, here another cambion stood before her, with his six fingers and sharp teeth, singing his songs for the infernal throng outside.

"What is wrong, friend Raven?" Starfire asked, alarmed by the mage's sudden change in attitude and demeanor. "Nothing." Raven said, trying to quell her own fears and the Titans'. She warned, "I want you all to do something for me. Be discreet, quiet, and don't draw attention. Clear?"

"Yes."

"Yeah."

"Sure?"

"Good." Raven said to the responses. She began to walk out, Sasha still trotting behind her. She was dangerously open, leading the group through the demonic territory of Kresk's red carpet and darting from pillar to pillar. Raven was almost at the door, leading out into the world where the secret of her origins could remain discreet and in her control. The entrance was illumined by her outlined shadow, part of Sasha's paw exposing itself in the dusk. Then, she heard singing coming from behind her. And they were words so sharp and terrible that she wanted to cry. Instead, she only hissed through her teeth a swear in Abyssal as the melody rang out:

_Sister, oh sister! Where is it you're going?_

_I've something to tell you that you should be knowing!_

"I assume you're addressing me?" Raven pre-emotively struck. The cambion sang out again:

_Of course! Little Sister, my blood and my kin!_

_There's no need to greet me with such awkward chagrin._

_The news that I bring you is all good and well,_

_So blow the brass horns and ring the gold bell!_

"Well, get to it. If it warrants all this song and dance, it's got to be good."

_It's better than that, not only good,_

_In fact I dare say that it is most great!_

_Sweet sister, that monster, that traitor of blood,_

_The one they call Trigon is at the estate_

_Of your father, my father, progenitor_

_The King of the Lamias, Master of Whores,_

_The noble and mighty, the strong and the true,_

_The savior of me, and the savior of you._

"What?! Graz'zt has Trigon?! But how…I thought he was killed?"

_Sweet sister? Dead? The answer is nay,_

_But the thrashing you gave him was great, I must say._

_Covered in burns and half-hearted shame,_

_He ran through the portals many night and a day._

_Until something caught him, who or what I can't say,_

_And brought him to father, his whirlwind to pay._

"I…I just can't believe it. What's happened to him, what is Graz'zt doing?"

_Torture and mayhem,_

_Go in hand to him._

_For stealing rare treasures from the root of our kin,_

_An eternity inside the torture dens._

"Is there any chance at all of him getting out, even the slightest?"

_Of course not, sweet sister, in short, hells no!_

_In the greatest of prisons, locked is this foe._

_Wrapped in the coils of adamant chains,_

_Surrounded by guards who take mortal pains,_

_To see that all magic, arcane or divine,_

_Don't come from the being of this red foe of mine._

_For your enemy is my enemy,_

_Through thick and through thin,_

_So says I, Runri, your nearest of kin,_

_Though to be fair, our siblings are many…_

"Raven, what is he talking about? Why does he keep calling you sister? Who is 'Graz'zt' and what has he done with Trigon?" Robin asked. Raven moaned and massaged her temples, while Runri merely looked stupefied. Raven finally sighed out, "I guess you have a right to know. I should have told you this earlier, but I just didn't know how to say it. After all we went through with Trigon, it was so hard to tell you this, even harder for me to accept after a while. Trigon…wasn't my real father."

"What?!" jumped from four different mouths just then. Raven upheld, "My father _is_ a demon, Demiurge really, named Graz'zt. And Runri here is my half-brother, in case you didn't guess. One of several million, to be precise. Graz'zt gets around…a lot."

"But Trigon –"

"Trigon was only pretending to be my father, quite well I might add. Trigon ruled an empire, but you know that. Sooner or later, he realized that he would need an heir, in case he ever died or had to leave. But by then, he was too old to have children. So when his enemies, the monks of Azerath, took in my mother, pregnant with me, he saw an opportunity. He tricked me, and the monks, into believing I was his daughter. My mother was already gone by the time I was old enough to ask questions. And even if she was around, I doubt she would talk about it; it would be too shameful."

_Shamefulness, bah!_

_She should have been glad that Lord Graz'zt_

_Took the time and the effort to join_

_With a mortal witch, and bring you from his loin._

Runri interjected. "Not all people take pride in having the Prince of Shadows as a father, Runri."

_What a lie,_

_You should die!_

_You jokester and clown!_

Raven only sighed again. There was no single race in the whole of the multiverse as stubborn as demons, in her opinion. Robin, in absolute shock, finally queried, "So…what about the prophecy, the fire and brimstone, what about Slade?"

"All just and old man trying to hold on to his dying empire. It was just chance that my mother walked into the monastery, and it was just destiny that Trigon would be waiting. Paradoxes are funny like that, you know?"

"Well, when did you find this out?" Cyborg asked. "A night or so after Slade attacked. Kresk took me to this club, a sabot more than anything, where there were all these demons. He called favors from them, and it was sort of my birthday party. Best party of my life, too…" Raven dozed off before continuing, "Met a bunch of fun demons, got some good treasure, fell in love a little bit (here Runri spat out_"Socothbenoth, pfft!"_), felt at home a little bit. Than Graz'zt told me that he was my father. It was gentle, in fact, looking back he was a total ass about it, but I just remember feeling so happy, so relieved. Than it all came crashing back down when I found out Trigon was coming anyway."

"Sooo…who is this Graz'zt guy, anyway?" Beast Boy asked. Runri sputtered from his bestial lips and smiled wide, showing all his teeth.

_Who is Graz'zt? WHO IS GRAZ'ZT?!_

_Mortal, sit down_

_And stick around._

_It's time someone told you,_

_This tale's overdue._

_The story I tell,_

_Neither Heaven nor Hell_

_Can match a tale like this!_

_To get this kind of quality, you have to go to the Abyss…_

It had been a long time since the cambion had had the opportunity to sing the Ballad of Graz'zt. His audience was usually demons, and they all knew of the Khan of Shade. But mortals, mortals were a rare crowd. He had been perfecting this song for years, and now was the time to see how it would fly. Raven sat down and made herself comfortable. This would be a long tale, for sure…

Later that night, Raven lay on her bed, sprawled out like the Hellcat at her feet. The Titans had listened to Runri's tale, with horror. And they understood why Raven had not brought Graz'zt up before. For the things that demons admire and worship make mortal men mad. Raven turned over on to her stomach, shifting the napping Sasha a little. She smiled into her pillow, and was glad that her friends had a reason to be afraid again. Something she had heard once rang in her head, and Raven whispered out, "Fear over love, fear over love…"


	3. The Council of Ravens

**Something short, for all our sakes.**

**Honest to Cthulhu, I have no idea why I wrote this. If you wind up wondering the same thing, go ahead and blame Alan Moore. It's nothing against Alan Moore, I just feel that no one should be that incredibly successful and brilliant all at once. I mean, man, Watchmen is just...ah, that's God speaking.  
**

* * *

_"A man's moral conscience is the curse he had to accept from the gods in order to gain from them the right to dream."_

- William Faulkner

_"Ah, my old foes…Haley's self-reliance."_

"_Damn straight."_

"_Haley's optimism."_

"_Tee hee!"_

"_And…hmm, I don't think I know you."_

"_I'm the part of Haley's brain that's sick of all this emo crap and wants to get back to comedy. (I'm new)."_

- Haley Starshine's personifications of self loathing, self-reliance, optimism, and plot consistency, _Order of the Stick 319_ by Rich Burlew

Raven tossed and turned in her sleep. Sasha had taken to resting on the floor the past few nights sheerly because Raven's foot kept kicking her Hellcat gut. Unbeknownst to the other Titans, something was happening inside Raven. Her aspects and personalities were stirring and shifting to and fro. Even now, as Raven's head sloughed off her pillow, a sensitive egoist would be able to feel the psychic maelstrom. All they would have to do is enter through the mage's mirror and follow the black and jagged roads of Raven's psyche. In the wilds of id, a lone figure moved up a toothed hill until it reached the summit. Looking over the anima landscape, it saw a gathering of rocks, a miniature circle of tall stones, in the distance. Reaching into the folds of its cloak, the figure withdrew a golden horn and lifted it to its head. Her red arms gleaming, reflected in the medal, the Demon blew from the trumpet in a silent note, dropped the instrument, and made for the circle of slab.

At last the Demon arrived, still concealing herself underneath the black cloak. And then the other aspects came. From every deep corner of consciousness and id, from hippocampus hills to cerebellum seas and frontal lobes fords, they came. All concealed themselves in their respected cloaks, save for a few who knew the subject of the meeting or simply didn't care. In all shades they were, and their number had increased since Raven had last taken stock of her gray matter. Some were minor feelings and thoughts, barely used or even suppressed. Others had grown stronger by far. They whispered amongst themselves, this flock of Ravens, divulging words of power and sanctity.

"Vulgarity, stop scratching your rear!"

"You can't tell me what to do, bitch!"

"Shut it, both of you!" The Demon commanded to Vulgarity and Mannerism. The two glared at each other, (or Vulgarity stared down, as the case may have been), and were silent. The Demon never acted this way around Raven. No, whenever she appeared to the shadow mage, she would always maintain a face of calm temptation. However, in Raven's mind, the Demon saw fit to take her mistress' place and whip the other aspects into shape. She did consider herself the most balanced, and the closest to the _actual_ Raven, in fact the Demon believed that she was none other than an alternate version of Raven created mentally and locked away somehow. She may have been right, or she may have been insane; in either case, she had taken the mantle of 'leader'. She calmly declared the status and purpose of the meeting, "Now then, I think we all know why we are here. As you may have noticed, we all appear to be…changing, and Latent Bisexuality if you say a word, _a word_, I will send you to wherever it is that Rage sent Inherent Lesbian Curiosity!"

"We were just about to ask Jinx out for coffee, too…" Latent Bisexuality responded, saddened by the loss of her closest companion and sometimes lover. (Aspects of the conscious do get lonely, of course.) The Demon only blustered, "You two had been saying that for three years now! If it didn't happen yet, _it wasn't going to_ _happen. _Poor thing, though. She deserved better than that. Gods knows she was already dying, but now she's just…gone. Which brings us to our other issue. We need to account for old members missing and new members entering."

"I shall matriculate and tabulate all our neophyte entities." Proclaimed Knowledge in her soft voice. "Good. Now then, when I call your name, respond. If you know someone is missing or unable to be here, just tell me. Are you ready knowledge?" The Demon asked. "I have already registered you and I. You may eventuate as you see fit."

"Good. Bravery?"

"Hells yeah!"

"Guilt?"

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm…oh, here. Sorry…"

"Joy?"

"Hello everybody! Tee hee!"

"Vulgarity?"

"Piss off."

"Mannerism?"

"Here, indubitably."

"Love?"

"Here, my darling."

"Fear?"

"Oh gods, take someone else! ANYBODY ELSE, JUST NOT ME!"

"Humor?"

"(_Cough_) Death…so…close…"

"Self Loathing?"

"What's the point anymore? It's all just death and shame…"

"Wisdom?"

"What is 'here', exactly? As aspects of thought, are any of us really present?"

"Insanity?"

"The rainbow leads to vinegar and oranges inside blue kittens."

"And Lust?"

"Present. Now make room; I believe I have a seat up there as much as anybody." Lust glided through the crowd, the other lesser Ravens moving aside. She was perhaps the oldest of Raven's many aspects, being present before the mage was even born, along with the Demon. And the Demon would not awaken for many years, not until Raven pulled deep within herself and coaxed the possibility out with dire portents of destruction. As such, Lust had been operating for nearly two decades, driving with pure instinct for even basic things. Whenever Raven wanted or needed something, Lust was there to ensure that the other aspects helped in getting it. The lust to be born, the lust to breathe, the lust to eat, the lust to drink, and later the lusts of more complex things; all these were under the eldest aspect's jurisdiction. The others respected her, for none could match her vigor or experience. Indeed, no of them could recall a time when Lust wasn't with Raven. Even Wrath and the Demon deferred to her from time to time, and others felt that she should be the leader as opposed to the Demon. But Lust would only decline such offers and disappear to her nest near the Wilds of Superego. Few ever followed her, and for good reason; when Lust was relaxing (usually with a minor aspect for the night), she could be roused to a terrible disturbance on anger. She was an enigmatic figure, beautiful and terrible in her glory, and so it was without resistance the Knowledge moved to the side so Lust could take her rightful place.

When Lust had settled in, the Demon pressed forward with the meeting, "Now, we currently have Wrath, Innocence, Stupidity, Honestas, and Auctoritas missing from the major aspects. Anybody know the whereabouts of them?"

"Stupidity had an…accident quite some time ago. I saw to the matter thoroughly." Knowledge proclaimed. "Ah, I see." The Demon replied. She had no doubts as to the nature of stupidity's mishap, or the onus of Knowledge, but metaphorically it made perfect sense. After all, what else was Knowledge going to do to stupidity? "And what of Innocence?" The Demon went on to ask. "Innocence disappeared somewhere past my domain. She said she was making for the Ivory Gates, shortly after Malchior, but she's been saying that for years now. If it were up to me, I'd say she's just a little…lost right now. She'll come back in time, with some fresh Hell unleashed, no doubt." Lust informed. "Well, what of Honestas and Auctoritas?" The Demon appealed. Knowledge interjected, "If I may. I believe that Honestas vacation of the current psyche directly corresponds to you and the activities of Wrath. Over time and experiences that tore at some of us aspects, Honestas diminished and so did Auctoritas. Being tied together, it is only natural that one would wither without the other. However, I believe that Auctoritas was only wounded by Honestas' retirement and so, like Innocence, may be only regenerating. She should be back by the next meeting, if not sooner." (Honestas and Auctoritas are two of Raven's aspects that represent the Roman virtues of respectability and spiritual authority, respectively. Honestas was slain by Wrath and as such Auctoritas had been severely wounded, causing in Raven an utter disregard for intelligentsia. In short; Raven didn't give a damn 'bout her reputation at that moment.)

"I see. And, most importantly, what of Wrath?" The Demon finally queried. Lust answered, saying, "The last I saw of her, she was making a run for the Abyss of Anti'Qualia. I don't know what's gotten into her, but gods help us if it spreads."

"Gods help us if it doesn't! At least that way we might know where she's gone! Without Wrath, we're defenseless. I can only do so much, and without Wrath, someone could snap our necks like kittens!" Fear exclaimed. She was a basic instinct of Raven, and worked closely with Wrath. She continued, "And who knows what she's doing out there? For all we know, she could be making for the Gates of Dream or the Psionic Core or anything! What if she's finally beginning to snap? We've already lost, what, twelve minor aspects now? How long before she turns to us majors?"

"You're worrying is unfounded, Fear." Lust vouched, "Wrath is vicious, but not stupid. She understands the significance of her actions. If I had to guess, I would say that she either made for the Gates of Dream, like you suggested, or that she simply needs some…'alone' time, so to speak."

"Still, we should be cautious. Wrath is somewhat of a loose cannon. Now, moving forward, we need to account for any minor aspects that want to step forward right now." The Demon continued. "Why don't we get our names called?" Begged Latent Bisexuality, representing the older minor aspects. The Demon sighed before elucidating, "Because, minor aspects pop up and disappear all the time. Taking them into account would just be too much trouble. If a minor aspect becomes really important, they can become major aspects. However, Wrath or Lust just kills most of them in the end. You remember Love for Robin? She strutted around like she owned the place. Then we all found out that the Boy Blunder was a purebred psycho with anger issues to boot, and that was the last we ever heard of her. As I recall, Wrath slept well that night…"

"So in other words, we're not worth knowing, huh? Is that it?" Protested Indignation. "Precisely." Replied Wisdom. Indignation only sulked. The Demon reinstituted, "Now, anybody want to step forward? We're ready to take names." Five aspects stepped forward, blathering, "We represent the other five Sins. We've only recently decided to come forward. I am Pride, and behind me are Greed, Envy, Gluttony, and Sloth."

"Noted. Next." Seven other aspects, cagey of the Sins, moved forward, singing, "We are the Seven Virtues. We have decided, in this time of crisis, it would be best to provide moral fiber to those around us. I am Patience, and behind me are Chastity, Temperance, Charity, Zeal, Kindness, and Humility. We have been here far longer due to our mistress upbringing, and our humbly at your service. Good day." The Virtues flew away as a sallow and rabid aspect stepped forward. She was holding a knife in her hand and balancing a razor on her finger, "I'm Impulse to Kill Team-Mates. I've been here for years. If it wasn't for Temperance, I wouldn't even be here tonight." She heard Pride snicker at her hunched form and drew her knife. Throwing it, it only barely missed Pride's head and hit a standing stone instead.

After that, a dozen other minor aspects came forward. Some were on their way to death; others were growing in power by the day. After a while the Sins started talking amongst themselves out of boredom. Sloth was the first one to lose interest, falling to sleep on one of the rocks. But then again, she always looked like she was asleep. Eventually, the Demon turned the meeting over to the final subject of the night, "Alright, I think it's time we talk about our…changes. Everyone, remove your cloaks and show your new form. Knowledge will write them down."

"And what about you?" Envy petitioned. The Demon smiled, "I've always looked like this, and I always will. Now get moving!" At that, several of the aspects merely threw off their cloaks and revealed their hideous metamorphosis. And truly, if Raven could see the workings of her inner self, she would recognize the menagerie of nightmares, the same menagerie she saw on her birthday, more, in fact. The Virtues had taken on the forms of the seven archangels, Zeal looking like Uriel, Charity like Raphael, Kindness to Gabriel, Patience to Azriel, and so forth. On the other side, the Sins looked like the seven Exarches of G'henna, each one taking their respective sphere. Gluttony slouched on a platform; rolls of fat toppling down while her three mouths licked the air. Pride stood tall and golden, holding her seamless figure straight and allowing her blonde hair to flow down her shoulders, as Greed, emaciated and coated heavily in make-up clawed her own rings. Envy was truly impressive, though; standing almost as tall as Gluttony, scales covered her body and a skull-like dragon's head leered with hateful eyes. However, the final two Exarches were to be found elsewhere. Bravery had taken on the black armored shape of the General of Wrath, and it was Love who donned the skin of In'nassi, Lord of the Iron Rod/Lady of Petals, Exarch of Lust.

Lust herself only smiled at Love for this, then turned to survey her court. Her form was obvious; six small horns poked through her curly black hair, and her green eyes surveyed with amusement the frangible orgy of shapes and color, delicate as a snowflake on the eyelash of a child. Her six-fingered hands held her bare shoulders underneath her black cloak, for it was well known that Lust, like some ancient Babylonian goddess of the hunt, only wore her skin and ebony mantle. It was intoxicating, the sheer smorgasbord of molds before her. Vulgarity, now in the form of pacoderm Behemoth, scratched her bulging stomach with massive nails and blew a trumpet howl from her trunk at Mannerism. The more astute of the two had grown thinner and sharper in silhouette by the day, mocking Alvarez, the Purging Duke and Overseer of the Abyssal Inquisition. Guilt, in her imperfect rectitude, had aged to a larval form of Raum. Knowledge had sprouted six wings and curled a viper around her hand (as well as changing her glasses from full to half-moon), a testament to Astaroth. Tiny Joy stroked her whiskers and pulled out her hat, laughing in the tone of Ipos, Lord of Masques. Fear could be none other than Rhyxali, Queen of Shadow Demons, for all her perseverance. Humor, wasting away as she was, wasn't really visible. There was only the hint of some humanoid, incorporeal shape with minor demon features writhing on the ground in agony. Insanity and Wisdom were the strangest couple; they now shared a body like Demogorgon, each head living separately on bestial torso and pattern. Self-Loathing only resigned herself to the conformation of Juiblex, the Lord of Ooze and Slime. She barely stood up and her mucus skin flowed to and fro with her feelings while red eyes bubbled to the surface.

A dozen demons danced about the stone-hinge, minor aspects to minor fiends, Demiurge to the greatest. And yet, Lust still couldn't help but smirk when she thought about Wrath's form. Every aspect could determine its character, and Wrath was the first to pick a truly demonic form. The smell of brimstone came on a passing thought, and Lust turned her head to the western reaches of Raven's mind, past the Shores of Linear Reasoning. Standing in the far distance, where only the eldest of Raven's aspects could see, was an aspect in red. The aspect raised its long, scarlet claws to her head in salute, and dropped them quickly. Underneath the hood, Wrath's orange and black eyes illumined her noseless face, and a grin as a crooked as a nail with teeth as jagged as stone. All Wrath said was "Sayonara." Before she disappeared on a fancy.

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**Yeah, no idea why I wrote this. Just kind of came to me. Anyway, you might want to subscribe. You never know; if you thought this was good or bad, you might be pleasantly surprised the next time a random thought pops into my head.**


	4. A Kreskmas Carol

**It's the only cliché that can never be overdone. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have succumbed to the madness of a Christmas story.**

**Pity me, readers. Pity the world if you fail in dissuading me from ever doing this again.**

* * *

_"I will honour Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year. I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future. The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me. I will not shut out the lessons that they teach. Oh, tell me I may sponge away the writing on this stone!"_

- Charles Dickens, _A Christmas Carol_

"_The story had held us, round the fire, sufficiently breathless, but except the obvious remark that it was gruesome, as, on Christmas Eve in an old house, a strange tale should essentially be . . ."_

- Henry James, _The Turn of the Screw_

_T'was the night before Christmas_

_And all through the Tower,_

_The Titans were living,_

_Awake at full power._

_Seraphic Star_

_Waited under mistletoe_

_Hoping brave Robin's_

_Romance would soon show._

_The Changeling and Cyborg_

_Both partied and played,_

_For them, night wasn't over_

_Until the bright morning day._

_And stoic dark Raven,_

_Gave a small grin,_

_Thinking of warmth,_

_With her Iraneon._

_But down in his pocket world,_

_Hateful and old,_

_The red demon Kresk_

_Was loath to behold_

_The holiday season,_

_For as many could tell you,_

_It was a well-known reason,_

_Fire demons detest,_

_The winter's harsh chill,_

_And are prone to protest,_

_Or simply just kill._

Kresk trudged along from his private study past Janys, dragging his cloven hooves. The ooze raised itself a little and peered at the Fire Demon, mocking in a noxious voice, "Happy Holidays, sir." The Fire Demon only groaned out, "Why do you torment me, slime?"

"Why don't I get a Christmas bonus?"

"Because it's not something that deserves to be behind bonuses. It's a lie and you damn well know it!"

"Where does this hatred come from (_the ooze queried in a Freudian tone_)?"

"It's not just the holidays; it's all of winter! I'm a _fire_ demon! What could be worse than three solid months of cold, snow, and rain? And as if that wasn't bad enough, mortals insist on filling it with holidays about 'love' and 'peace'. It's not just this world; it's all of them! All of them insist on greeting this dismal season with a faux cheeriness. Winter itself wouldn't be so bad otherwise; crops die, illness runs rampant across the world, and oh, so much death. The old, the young, the sick, the weak, the drunk, the homeless; all manage to depart this sphere during winter. But _no_, they have to have holidays. The only comfort is now when sin rears its ugly head more than ever. These mortals…they've become detached from any hint of meaning in their 'Christmas' as they call it. It's not even really about Christ, you know. He was born in spring, for crying out loud! May to be exact, with _birds_ and _sunshine_. You wanna' know what Christmas really is? It's a festival of Zeus! There, I said it! It was a bunch of Romans begging Jupiter to give them their crops back when spring came! But put it all together and you have this shallow fiasco, with mortals begging for more and more every year. And the terrible thing is_somebody_ finds enough meaning in it to make it real. Then, before you know it, the 'mercy' and the 'charity' and the 'peace on earth and good will towards men' comes true. And what does that do? It draws angels, bloody angels from the realms of glory! Archons, eladrins, guardinals, Aeons, Hallowed Ones; all of them have to come here and bring 'good' as they call it. Think of all I could do if they were gone! Wrath, greed, gluttony, pride, sloth, lust, envy: all the good things in life just outside, waiting to happen, especially now. It's Christmas Eve, and the tension is at its boiling point. A sin committed right now would reverberate through the masses like a cannon ball! And here I am, waiting for January to come. Like it'll matter; Valentine's will just show up and I'll have a new a whole new can of worms. Love and lust just aren't an old demon's field, you know?"

"All too well…I'm guessing that mean's no bonus then?" Kresk swore in Abyssal before stomping out, muttering, "I like Hogswatch better. At least it has the point; believe the little lies so you can believe the big ones, and maybe they'll all come true."

"Careful, sir. I may have an invalid offspring bent on teaching you a lesson around here somewhere."

"Then let him be re-absorbed, and decrease the surplus population!" Was all the Fire Demon snarled as he departed for his room. Janys slumped down into her bowl. She really wasn't expecting a pay raise, and she had no idea what she would do with the money even if she had it. But it did give her something to do every twenty-fifth of this human month 'December'.

No one came to see Kresk as he went down the halls. Kresk's sentiments about Christmas and winter were the basic of all demons and fiends everywhere. Wait out the holidays until January, plague mortals during mid-winter until spring, stay down while angels and other spirits brought life back to the world, then continue with business as usual. Thankfully, it was only once a year. And even that didn't stop some fiends; Kostchtchie made his living off of the artic lands and counted Frost Giants as some of his followers. Baba Yaga, the great witch herself, preferred the cold. Mephistopheles, ruler of the eight layer of Hell, Cania, was an actual patron of ice and chill, along with subterfuge and lies. And there were other arch-devils, who Kresk shuddered to think of, that counted boreas and flame as their domain. But Kresk only navigated the labyrinth of back-halls in his planar abode, trying to find his room.

And then, there was the sound of hooves. Kresk stopped and perked a ragged ear up, listening to the clattering. It sounded like something had past him, had gone through him, like he was marching through a cavalry of phantom equines. Kresk moved forward again, but the sound did not cease, and the faster he moved the louder and more expedient it became, until Kresk realized his own stupidity. He stopped, and slapped his head in penance. But just to make sure, the Fire Demon raised his right hoof, then brought it down on to the floor. The 'clop' echoed through the hall ten-fold, sounding like a herd of stallions. Kresk raised his other hoof just to accompany it and then, on a whim, trotted out the 'The Flowers That Bloom in the Spring' from Gilbert & Sullivan's 'The Mikado', simply because Kresk could not think of a time when he listened to British opera played via feet. The last few 'Tra la la la haaas!' flying down the corridors, Kresk at last came to his room.

Kresk rarely visited his room, for he rarely slept. At least anywhere convenient, anyway; sometimes he simply collapsed on his desk, but most of the time he preferred getting stone cold drunk, going up to the Tower, vomiting on something, and then flopping on the kitchen table. As such, the Fire Demon had not visited his room in the last eight months, and the only reason it was that short a time was because he had gotten a bad case of the Grays on a trip from Hades. The door was tall and wide, made of steel emblazoned with crude portraits of various demons and kings mixed with thorned vines curling between them. For no particular reason, Kresk had had the door gilded, but the thin layer of gold was chipping off or had been scraped away by lesser demons. As Kresk was unlocking his door, he noticed something wrong. The door had a single knocker on it, which peered with hatred to the outside world lest the room's occupant be disturbed. Kresk looked closely and spat out, "Gods damn it! Does nothing ever work around here?" For indeed, the knocker had become a lone, inanimate lion. Kresk normally enchanted the piece of metal into looking like a chimera or a Chaos Beast, topped off with the décor being alive, snarling and staring at all intruders. For now, it was just a single, useless piece of metal. Kresk resolved to fix it when he next woke up, unlocked the door, and entered his room.

Kresk's room was not nearly so splendid as his study. The floor was made of metal tiles, underneath which ran pipes and vents like varicose veins and arteries. The metal itself was a dull gray, but the walls had been gilded much like the door, and similarly to the portal, the weaker metal was coming off. But, luckily, there were some decorations to cover Kresk's inattentiveness. Next to the door was a tall mirror, unadorned but still ovular. Accompanying it was a table that rested on a single mastodon's foot supporting the mesa. There wasn't much on the table; some small boxes filled with gems, spare coins, and trinkets, a set of pens, a letter opener, and the Fire Demon's little black book. A journal, accounts record, and address book for the best brothels, bakeries, and beer-halls in the multiverse, it had been neglected of late. Kresk's allies and enemies were not listed, however; they would be better found in the_Pseudomonarchia Daemon_ or the _Encyclopedia Infernale_, spell books and grimoires of the ancient days of Solomon. It was an old demon's black book, not fit for young spirited tanar'ri like Socothbenoth or Nocticula, but more mature fiends like Ipos or even Graz'zt under some conditions. For now Kresk only patted it gently like it was a faithful dog. The walls of the Fire Demon's room were adorned with sheets of thin brass, each engraved with images of torture, demons, and witches; a cheerful decorum for Kresk. But the most fascinating subject was Kresk's bed.

Kresk was a rugged demon. His jagged hooves, pointed horns, razor talons, and asperous teeth would shred through normal sheets and linens like a hot knife through butter. So instead, the Fire Demon's davenport had been custom made. Taking up most of the room, what looked like a large confessional booth sat. The pipes under the floor ran and gathered underneath, delivering heat and energy. The base was tall, and inside were a series of plates and constantly working fires. In lieu of bed-curtains, Kresk surrounded the mattress with sliding stain glass windows that would allow entry. But it was the mattress itself that was most spectacular. In place of an average cot, there was instead a culmination of embers, coals, hot rocks, ashes, and soot, constantly heated by the workings of home. And finally, the pillows were in fact two glowing orange rocks from a volcano in Gehenna.

Kresk installed his robes in a wardrobe bearing two Nightmares raising their hooves on the front, planked his rings and magical baubles in one of the small boxes on his table, and looked at himself in the mirror. The Fire Demon was proud of his body; it was flabby, pasty, calloused in places, riddled with sores, tumors, and occasionally furred, tattooed here and there. His stomach bulged over his waste, and breasts (garnered by years of fat) touched his sagging belly. His legs were missing hair in places, his tail was completely naked and scarred, and his hooves uniformly cleft and denticulate, and his chaoisitech upper thighs still had their organic sheen and looked like chitnous plates. All in all a good disgusting, wretched, curmudgeonly old demon's body that Kresk had fought for over many decades. He turned around so the Slumbering Valor he had gained in the Circle of Wrath in Hades would be able to see itself. What looked like two bulging shoulder blades opened themselves and revealed that they were yellow slitted eyes. Kresk's spine cracked, the Valor growling and showing its teeth before it went back to sleep.

Kresk put on a night robe made from salamander skin and went to his bed. Like some household pet, he dug a hole in the coals and ash, lay down, and piled it back on top. His thoughts turned to dreams as he napped on his warm rock pillow, and soon the Fire Demon was snoring, with thoughts of skulls and arson dancing in his head. But it was only an hour before he was phantasmically disturbed by a hollow voice calling, "Kreeesk! Kreeesk! KREEEESK!" The Fire Demon tried to return to his slumber, but the voice just kept calling out. Eventually, Kresk burst from the cinders and roared, "WHAT?!" He was not un-used to phantom voices. At any single time at least five were consulting him on some manner from the back of his thoughts, and insanity was just part of being old and evil to the demon. Still, for one to disturb him, especially on the night he was trying to sleep, was enough to prompt the Fire Demon into a blood lust.

A shape floated through the glass screen and hovered before Kresk. A small, pudgy creature resembling a cross between a pig and an Australian fruit bat floated, waving a short pointed tail. It only bellowed out the Fire Demon's name more, "Kresk! Kreeesk!"

"Alright, yes, I'm here! Who are you and what the Hells do you want?"

"Ask me who I was."

"Alright,_what were you_?"

"In life I was your familiar, departed this very night some odd-"

"Hold on, hold on. Familiar? Be specific, I've had at least fifty nine familiars in my life." The spirit was taken back at this, shocked and saddened by the revelation and Kresk's forgetfulness. It stuttered, with heartbreak in its voice, "Su- surely you remember me? I was your favorite familiar! You told me so!"

"Yeah, I say that to all my familiars. Gives a morale boost, you know?"

"I served with you in your ventures through the Tower Arcane, through the torture chambers of the daemons! If it wasn't for me, you could be dead!"

"Could be, might be, but I'm not. And you're still not helping; I've dealt with yugoloths numerous times over the years."

"Oh, you fat son of a cow! How could you forget me?! You know what, I came here to help but now… Oh, I'm getting ahead of myself. I'll give you a few chances to guess my name. If you guess it, I will deliver my message."

"Oh, goody. I get to help a dead overweight flying lesser demon tell me a message. Joy to the freaking world. Alright let's see…Uh, Phobos?"

"No."

"Macavity?"

"Macavity was a cat, you goat-pleasuring putz!"

"Bing Bangles the Stupid?"

"That was a mongoose, ass!"

"…Little Bitch #12?" At this, the small ghost familiar screamed out in rage and charged Kresk, keening, "#9! I was Little Bitch #9!" Kresk raised his claws and cast a spell at the creature. Missiles made of magic and pure force shot through the air and blew holes into the familiar. It was a simple spell, one every mage with half an eye knew how to do, but it never stopped working. Ghosts aren't supposed to be hurt by most kinds of damage or combat, but magic worked, especially force, energy made of nothing but pure movement and strength. The spirit dissipated on the coals, screaming out, "I'LL SEE YOU IN HELL!" The Fire Demon only snorted, "I've already seen it. Nothing new there."

When there was nothing left, not even a trace amount of ectoplasm, Kresk laid his down on the rocks again and covered himself in a fresh layer of coals. He drifted back to sleep, his eyelids sealing themselves like the gates to Heaven. His nostrils opened and closed as he dosed and snored for a brief time. A _brief_ time. A shimmering light came through the windows, glowing and dancing on the slumbering Fire Demon. In a soft voice, it called, "Awaken, Fire Demon. Your penance is at hand." Kresk only groaned and put his head under his claws. But over and over again, a voice called out beckoning the Fire Demon to awake. At last, he burst from the ashes, spreading coal and flame into the air, and yawped, "What? What?! WHAAT?!"

Another figure floated through Kresk's windows and hovered over him. It was humanoid, short and thin. Light emanated from every corner of its body, and a simple robe of radiance hung off its form. Its long hair was crowned with a flame, and its face was perfectly androgynous and anomalous, neither old, young, male, or female, but all of these things. Kresk only stared at it with hatred before growling out, "Is every damn spirit in the multiverse visiting me tonight?"

"No. Just I and my brothers. Come, your reclamation is nigh."

"…Yeah, good look with that."

"Surely you know of what I speak? The spirit we found was an old friend of-"

"You mean the pig-bat? I'll be blunt, that didn't go over so well. Now get." The spirit only sighed as it explained, "You are to be redeemed tonight. The celestial realms look upon the mortal world and find peoples such as yourself in need of aid and receiving love in your heart. We are to guide you back on the road to Paradise."

"Is that why they sent me a glowing she-male, or are you just looking for work? And how did you get in here? I have sensors and traps all over the place!"

"We came through dreams, through hopes. I am your inner child, the self of your past. Take my robe, and I will help you."

"So you took the back door through the Plane of Dreams, Dal-Quor? That must mean you're a vision, because there's no way you're an angel: I would've smelled you two realities off if you were." Visions, or manifestations, are a form of spirit, somewhere between incorporeal undead, like ghosts and wraiths, and outsiders, like angels and demons. They are renowned for their shape-changing abilities. Kresk further pondered, "And what happens if you fail?"

"Then you are forever damned."

"Oh. No. Stop. Please spirit, you're frightening me. Certainly I, a Fire Demon, know nothing of the damned. Oh. The madness. Seriously though, I'll humor you. This ought to be worth a few yucks back in Sigil." Kresk reached out, touched the glowing garment, and witnessed as the spirit grew brighter and brighter, 'til at last the demon could see nothing. Reality faded back, and the two were standing in an abhorrent city. It was an old city from Kresk's youth, which is to say the Renaissance, and the streets were littered with mud and filth and trash. The buildings were dilapidated heaps of stone and wood, barely supported by each other while their grimy exteriors decayed more and more by the hour. Kresk inhaled and said, "My gods, I forgot what a crap-heap my old home was."

"Do you know the way?" the spirit asked. Kresk only stared at the apparition, garnering information by its appearance, finally proposing, "So, if you're a vision, that would mean you haven't actually sent me back in time, this is all a dream?"

"Well, yes, but the purpose is still important. By looking into your past at memories, you can find what made what you are and see it in a new light. Peace comes from memory." The spirit replied with a note of worry. Kresk pressed forward, "Uh huh, that's good. So, in realizing that this is a dream, _my_ dream I might add, I therefore gain control over this world."

"I…I suppose so." Kresk walked over to the eidolon and said, "Inner child, huh?"

"That is correct." The Fire Demon sucked air through his teeth, then struck. Putting magical fire and force around his claws, he lunged his talons forward and grabbed the being by the neck, holding it in place, smirking, "To quote the grand-daughter of a cosmic entity much wiser than I; Hi, inner child! I'm the inner baby-sitter!" Kresk slammed the ignis fatuus against the wall of a building numerous times until he was quite sure it was unconscious and/or dying. Being a dream, the demon had no problem summoning a small hand vacuum from out of nothing. He put it on the phantasm and sucked it in. Removing the small bag that contained the incorporeal essence of the Ghost of Christmas Past, he set it on fire with his thumb and threw it in one of the dream buildings; he would love to hear it scream, but he was eager to get somewhere in the Realm of Dreams.

Kresk cleared his mind of the city, losing all vestments of civilization and consciousness. Soon, there was nothing but black, devoid of anything: a perfectly blank landscape. The Fire Demon focused once more, on the one place he liked to head to in his dreams when he had the chance. A small restaurant, simple in its design, sat at the apex of the landscape. Over its cozy doors were the letters M.H.O.B.: the Multiversal House of Breakfast. Kresk was relieved, sighing, "Ah, the M.H.O.B. at the center of dreams. Glorious!" He walked towards the door, but first checked the building itself. It still was a cross between a 1950s diner and a Swiss cottage. Kresk never went into dream diners unless he was sure what they were. One time, he had ended up in somebody's dream about a restaurant from 1987 and had to deal with one too many Endless.

Kresk walked in to the smells of grilling, baking, and roasting. Only four or five other customers ate in the dream M.H.O.B.; sitting at the counter, a pureblood snake-man, or yuan-ti as they are known, drank coffee and looked over some papers. Kresk had seen him before in Sigil, and casually greeted, "Hey Tom. How's that case against the Board of Arcane Education going?"

"Eh…not so well. Is it so much to ask that we make our schools exclusive?" The yuan-ti replied. Kresk only nodded, "Not like when I was lad." The Fire Demon picked a booth for himself, giving him a decent view of the dreamscape outside. Each window had a different view, but Kresk stuck to the traditional view of the stratos with swirling stars and planets. He would have gotten and inter-galactic vortex that connected to the Plane of Negative Energy, but a Beholder and its Eye-Thrall dwarves had taken that booth.

A small, golden construct, resembling a cross between a lobster and an elf, came forward holding a note-pad in its metal claws, asking in a hollow voice, "What nourishment would please you at this facility?" The Fire Demon told the device, "Bring me some griddle cakes, bacon, and scrambled eggs. Ooh, and some of that coffee ooze, black if you please."

"Excellent selections, sir or madam. Your orders will be out in approximately twenty seven minutes and thirty nine seconds." The creature scuttled/rolled off into the back, and there was the distinct sound of a bell ringing later. Kresk sat for the exact time given (not a micro-second more or less), and received a good breakfast. The pancakes were fluffy, the bacon was tender, and the eggs didn't need even one grain of salt. And the coffee, well the coffee was terrible, just the way Kresk liked it. But just as he was about to chow on his flapjacks, the demon awoke in his bed.

A thundering voice called out, "Fire Demon Kresk!" And where there should have been breakfast made out of dream-stuff, there was only ash and coal. And now, Kresk was furious. He got out of bed, throwing a coal or two with a sprinkling of embers. Standing in front of the bed, a massive figure in a green robe trimmed with white fur stood. His hair was red and curly, his eyes a sparkling jade, a crown of holly adorned his head, and he held a torch at his side. He triumphantly bellowed, "Good evening! I am the Ghost of-" The spook was cut short as Kresk bull-rushed him. The Fire Demon really wasn't in the mood for any more hands-on exorcisms. He ran to the figure and leapt on to its chest. Somehow, the Ghost was still standing, but it didn't matter. Unlike the last two spirits, this one was solid, and Kresk would only need his claws for this jobs. The Fire Demon slashed at the haunt's face, crying out, "NO ONE (_slash_)! TAKES (_slash)_! MY (_slash)_! **PANCAKES**_**(slash)**_" The vision, dizzied but still standing, faltered under the Fire Demon's weight. Kresk thrust his arms into the ceilings and dug his claws in. Pulling himself up, the Fire Demon knocked the spirit down with his hooves, forcing it to hit the wall. As a final coupe de grace, Kresk shot numerous fireballs.

Landing on the floor, Kresk panted before noticing two small figures standing nearby, cowering in fear. They might have been ghouls, for all the skin on them. They were children, but hideous, deformed, robbed of any semblance of humanity or purity. Their eyes were sunken, their skin was pale, and their fingers were claws. They growled and showed their rotten teeth. Kresk, perplexed, asked, "Who are you?" The children looked at each other, for this was the first time they had ever been directly addressed. Finally, what appeared to be a boy (it was difficult to tell under the rags) answered, "I…I am Ignorance, sir." The other figure, presumably a girl, said, "And…and I am Want, sir." The Fire Demon, still befuddled said, "Alright…From now on, I'm gonna' call you 'Iggy' and you can stay 'Want'. I hope I am not being forward, but do you two need work?"

Ignorance replied, "I…I suppose so, seeing as how our employment is dead and all." Nodding his head, Kresk instructed, "Uh huh. Tell you what; you work for me and I'll pay you six silvers a week. You'll get more if you work harder." Ignorance and Want looked at each other with wide eyes, and finally replied to Kresk, "Thank…Thank you, sir! Of course! What's our first job?" Kresk looked at the smoldering remains of Christmas Present and said, "Take this oaf out to one of the staff. You'll be working with demons, but I expect you're used to weirdoes by now. If you're not, you can always leave. But all the same, get _him_ out of here. After that, go in to the kitchen and have some sandwiches. I think there's some roast beef left. Then you can either leave or find yourself a room. Your call now."

Kresk hadn't finished his sentence before the two were pulling the dead visitor out the hall. Kresk put his head out the door and watched them before he closed the portal again and locked it. Getting back into bed, the Fire Demon gathered coals to himself and muttered out, "Dickens deserves better than this." Generally speaking, the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come was supposed to make an appearance, but it was taking its time seeing at how its compatriots had fared. And overall, seeing that Kresk really was happy being evil and hateful, the wraith didn't even bother to show up. Without its companions, the phantom was free to do its will. So, the spirit did nothing to Kresk of the haunting variety. Instead, it applied for a job working for the Haunts Society in Lachrymose, a city in Thanatos, and home layer of Orcus, Demiurge of the Undead. It was last seen in a cozy house in England scaring away land developers.

And as for Kresk, well the Fire Demon profited from another five hours of sleep. And he was as terrible a man, terrible a monster, terrible a miser as he had always been. And if any being was said to possess knowledge on hating the holidays, it was the Fire Demon for sure. And so, as the Fire Demon observed when he was dragged to the Titan's Christmas dinner by Raven after numerous pesterings, "Gods rot your souls and feed your bones to the whore-hounds of Hell, everyone of you!"

* * *

**And so, Kresk thankfully failed to learn the meaning of Christmas. Similarly, Robin saw what life would be like if he had never been born, Starfire delivered various gifts, Raven helped a poor little match girl, and other holidays crap that will never be written about so we may all forget that this ever occurred and go on with our lives in a normal fashion.**

**Happy Holidays! **


	5. A Halloween

"_Shadows of a thousand years rise again unseen,_

_Voices whisper in the trees, 'Tonight is Halloween!'"_

- Dexter Kozen

"_Pixie, Kobold, Elf, and Sprite,_

_All are on their rounds tonight;_

_In the wan moon's silver ray,_

_Thrives their helter-skelter play."_

- Joel Benton

"'_Tis the night – the night_

_Of the grave's delight,_

_And the warlocks are at their play;_

_Ye think that without_

_The wild winds shout, _

_But no, it is they – it is they."_

Arthur Cleveland Coxe

"_When witches go riding,_

_And black cats are seen,_

_The moon laughs and whispers,_

'_Tis near Halloween._

_A gypsy fire is on the hearth,_

_Sign of the carnival of mirth;_

_Through the dun fields and from the glade,_

_Flash merry folk in masquerade,_

_For this is Halloween!_

_True love is like ghosts,_

_Which few have seen,_

_But I love candies the most,_

_On tonight, this Halloween!_

_May Jack O' Lanterns burning bright_

_Of soft and golden hue_

_Pierce through the future's veil and show_

_What fate now holds for you._

_On Halloween the thing you must do_

_Is pretend that nothing frightens you_

_And if somethin' scares you and you want to run_

_Just let on like it's Halloween fun._

_So when black cats prowl and pumpkins gleam,_

_May luck be yours on Halloween!"_

- Authors Unknown

Autumn arrived in Jump City with a speed unparalleled and mystical. For the whole month of September, summer had refused to relinquish its grasp on the city, and the leaves stayed on the trees and only departed when necessary. Instead of being a season of oranges, reds, yellows, and browns, it was merely a time of dying greens and pockmarked foliage. The autumn crops and tidings came. Baseball turned to football, which quickly turned to basketball when the college team began to die a death most equivalent to a drowning fish. Pumpkins and squash began to grow, and already there were preparations for Christmas. And if anything remained sterner in the face of the season, it was the Titans. The natural world's changing meant little to them, but more domestic ones were far more important. With the dying sun, crime began its annual increase, and the young heroes were on the move more and more. Raven was trying to gain an appreciation for the season, but it was hard. She was in love, after all.

She still hadn't broken the news to the other Titans. Only a certain aging demon knew, and he had been gone for days on end. But she had her mate, at last, who was hers and hers alone. It had been rather difficult to get even that far. Months of consideration, practicing poses and speeches and mannerisms. And the occasional escape route, along with one or two love potions… But even romance had to play second fiddle to the cambion's work, at least until she figured out a way to break it to the Titans. And the old Fire Demon Kresk kept hinting at a surprise. But other than a flame, things trotted along in Jump with the perpetual feeling of late August.

And then suddenly, that was over. In a day, maybe in a single night too, autumn was there. It was as if somebody had said to the bright sun, "You're time is coming to an end, old Helios, decrepit Ra. The time of death is near, and we must all exalt in its beauty." And just like that, things changed. On the very first day of October, the temperatures plummeted into the sixties, and crisp wind flew through the streets. The sun was always a bright yellow or a dying orange, never an in-between, and it constantly beamed its light as if it were in its morning or its afternoon. And the leaves, oh the leaves! There was hardly a speck of green left, save on the pines and the occasional bush. But even plants not yet succumbing to the loss of sun from September were changed, and all were the most beautiful shades of orange, red, gold, and brown. And some trees constantly shed leaves, even when their branches should have been barren, while others were barren where they should have lived. All in all, it was if Persephone had said to Hades that she could still do her work and be his wife for six months of the year, and the Unseen One had happily agreed with a tender smile. And so the Valkyrie winds blew the floral parchment through buildings and streets and across sidewalks and playgrounds. The residents of Jump commented on the strange weather, and one would have thought that by then they would be done wondering at oddness, what with two demons, an android, and extraterrestrial monarch, a shape shifter, at least five mutants, ooze monsters, stone golems, mercenary kings, earth shakers, and all other manner of oddities prowling their streets, but no, the people of Jump never seemed to lose their innocence of the world. Things remained that way, for a single day. On the second of October, nothing was new, save for a lone detail on the Titan's Tower. On the little island supporting the fortress, a solitary Jack O' Lantern Scare-Crow stood, his grin blazing with an actual flame in the dark. The winds and sea seemed to do little to halt the little spark, but it was a minor thing to know. Then the third day came, and that was a whole batch of new surprises. For as if trying to correct some horrible error, whatever force had changed the weather decorated the city in a single night. Almost every house had some kind of garish ornament: a paper skeleton on the windows, a plastic spider running through fake webs on the door, and an army of pumpkins on the porch. Cloth ghosts danced on trees, plastic tombstones cropped up like corn, and the Scarecrow from the Tower seemed to have reproduced, for at least a dozen other of his ilk swarmed around yards and houses. And still, nobody knew what the devil was going on.

Needless to say, the Titans were called in. Accusing glances were cast to Raven, territorial growls were cast back, and opinions became suspicions. Besides, it was all too festive to be Raven. Too many lights, smiles, and joyful things dancing around; her Halloween would've involved the word 'dark' in as many pretenses as possible. The Titans found nothing, and after three hours of tracking endlessly for fanatic and panicked citizens, no culprit could be evidenced. At first, Robin feared it might be the Scarecrow migrating from Gotham: he would be a grave threat to the city, to say the least. But no, nothing was harmful about the joyous anomalies, and they didn't appear to have any overall malevolent pattern, so that left only one suspect. One large, red, orange-eyed suspect…

Raven repeatedly knocked on Kresk's door, and no one answered. Furthermore, when the young cambion tried to open the portal, she found it to be locked! It was unusually hot in the Tower, and there was a strange smell from upstairs. Still, Raven was doubtful that the workings could be Kresk. The Fire Demon was old, incapable of performing so much in so little time. Furthermore, he had disappeared at least a week ago, and none of his demonic peers could account for him. As they walked upstairs, the Tower got hotter and strange, enchanting aroma filled the heroes' noses. Skeptical as ever, Robin persisted, "And you're sure Kresk had nothing to do with this?" Raven only groaned, "I'm not sure, but I'm confident. You forget, he's an old demon. He'd need more help than he has. And he's been missing since September, so it's likely…that I spoke too soon." The Titans stared wide-eyed at what used to be their living room. For all intents and purposes, it was now a garden.

Pumpkins, at least a hundred strong, were stacked on tables, in boxes, and scattered on the floor. The red carpet and couch had surprisingly been covered with sheets. The pumpkins teetered and tottered as the mysterious smell became apparent. Baking in the oven, and six mini-ovens, were numerous pies. A gigantic bowl of whipped cream sat on the counter, as well as two bowls of seeds labeled 'harvest' and 'roast'. In the corner of the room, eight new-born Jack O' Lanterns stood, grinning and chortling and laughing like madmen. The king of this expanse was sitting on the couch with a knife, carving out the face of a new Jack O' Lantern as invisible servants took the pulp and started sorting the seeds out. And as Kresk worked his way with the ripe squash, he hummed a deceptively familiar tune:

"_Boys and girls of every age,_

_Would you like to see something strange?_

_Come with us and you will see_

_This our town of Halloween!"_

The Fire Demon looked up at the Titans and beamed, "Morning all! Fine day for pumpkins, don't you know? Take a knife: I'll let you carve a few faces 'cause I'm generous like that." Robin's protest of indignation was halted by a quick 'ding!' from the oven. Kresk quickly hopped up as he hummed, "Pies are ready!" Rushing over to an oven, Kresk pulled out four hot pies, chiming himself, "Hope you all like pumpkin!" Oblivious to array of looks coming from the Titans, the Fire Demon started to put whip cream on the pies in the shape of little faces, yet again as Jack O' Lanterns. Robin, very quietly, walked over to Kresk. There was a moment of silence, followed by the Boy Wonder briefly scratching his chin, then finally asking, "You know, I've learned that, in general, I don't like getting answers to questions even remotely related to you. They're always full of sarcasm, lies, snarkiness, and an overall feel of pessimism. But I'm gonna' go out on a limb here and ask: what are you doing?" Without looking up from his pie, Kresk said, "Isn't it obvious? I'm getting ready for Halloween! I couldn't stand another year of a dull, lifeless October. So I decided to take certain actions."

"I see. So it would be you that put up all those decorations?"

"Yep."

"And the scarecrows?"

"All me."

"So, by extension, it's your fault I was woken up at 6:30 this morning so I could run all over town listening to people complain and whine whenever I didn't have answers? And it would also be your fault that I had to go through one of the most rigorous security exams possible to contact the JLU and make sure that the Scarecrow wasn't out?"

"Well, if you wanna' point fingers…"

"Trust me, I do. And now I find out that you've turned my living room into Charlie Brown's nightmare…Quite bluntly, I'm not sure how to react. On the one hand, I want to kill you. On the other hand, you haven't actually done anything illegal, except maybe some trespassing. Which leaves the question as to why I still want to kill you?"

"Space issues, if you asked me." Robin groaned and rubbed his eyes through his mask, as he began to lecture, "Look, I don't know what this is to you, but you have to take it down. You can't just force your point of view on people." Kresk snorted, "Says the stove-pipe to the kettle."

"And how much is this going to be to clean up? Do you have any idea how much work-"

"I should say I do. I put the crap up myself. You wouldn't understand. Halloween is the best night in the world to be a demon. Even Walpurgisnacht is a dinner date compared to it! And I haven't hurt anyone, I haven't done anything illegal, I just changed the scenery. When the leaves fall off the trees, is that vandalism? When the moon is full and the tide is high, is that trespassing? Is the city private property? Of course not! I'm just doing what needs to be done, and what needs to be done is Halloween! It's time to remember, the dead, the forgotten, and the quiet. And all the while, celebrate mercilessly. Besides, I made a pie."

"How does pie-"Robin was cut short by Kresk sticking a quick spoonful into his mouth. For all his hatred of the Fire Demon, Richard's eyes watered beneath his mask. Part of it was the intense heat, but most of it was the sheer flavor of the dessert. This wasn't just a pie; this was the epiphany of autumn, death, and rebirth as a flavor, with extra nutmeg and sugar. Robin was very quiet as Kresk handed him the whole pie, and the demon said in a disturbingly reassuring voice, "Don't worry. This junk'll be gone by the time you get back. Nickis!" There was a banging from…inside Cyborg. A small, green, horned imp opened the chest plate like a panel and asked in his squeaking voice, "Yes, boess?" Kresk ordered, "Gather as many dretch as you can. I want Jack O' Lanterns out of all these pumpkins by sundown."

"Why sundown, boess?"

"No reason, just that you know how the dretch are."

"Reight on eet, boess!" The quasit slipped back in Cyborg as Victor warily asked, "How…How did he get inside me?" Raven looked at her friend and bluntly said, "Do you really want to know?" Victor only crossed his arms with a weary look, as if securing his chest compartment again. Kresk picked up a fresh Jack O' Lantern as he said, "You all go out for a few hours. Trust me; come All Saint's Day, this will never have happened."

"Go out to where?" Beast Boy protested. The Fire Demon scoffed, "I don't know, go think of something! But if you stay here, I'll never get my work done, capish? Now get or I'll make some trouble for you!" There was one final sigh from the leader of the Titans as Robin said, "Let's just go. I really don't want this any more complicated then it already is." The Titans dissentedly walked away before Kresk called out, "Not you, kiddo. I need a word with ya'." The other Titans looked at Raven, and she looked back to say, "Go one without me. I'll catch up." Raven entered the room and walked over to Kresk, who was now holding the pumpkin across from him like a Shakespearean skull. Raven quietly commented, "So, what did you put in the pie?" The older demon chuckled, "Nothing, really. Just a little bit of Babushka Baba Yaga's enchantment spice. How's your little sweetheart?" Raven was nervous at this. Her romantic exploits weren't really a matter of conversation to her. Hesitantly, the mage answered, "We're both fine. Why?" The Fire Demon answered back, "Because, I happen to have with me one night entry passes into the Garden of Darkest Delights."

"You-you got them? But…but that club is so exclusive there are gods they won't let in! How did you manage it?"

"I have my subtle skills, and that's all you need to know. "

"Are- are they for us?"

"Just the two of you. I want you to go there for Halloween, just a little date. Like I said, there's no better time to be a demon then Halloween, and there's no better place to be then the Garden. Or so I've heard…"

Raven was flabbergasted. She had never dreamed she would be seeing the Garden! It was an exclusive club for only the proudest members of the Lower Planes. In an uncharacteristic fashion, the cambion showed a brief sign of affection by hugging her old mentor. The Fire Demon laughed as he said, "Alright, alright, get going. You don't want those idiots to get too far out of sight." As Raven joyfully ran after her friends, Kresk, ever so gently, blew a small flame into the Jack O' Lantern's mouth and watched it burn.

True to his word, nothing was to be seen or found of Kresk when the Titans returned. And it remained that way for several weeks, until about three days before the thirty-first. At that point, an army of new Jack O' Lanterns appeared, totaling the scarecrows out at one hundred strong. In the main hall, the Titans were subject to the smells of all kinds of food cooking, boiling, stewing, frying, basting, and baking. Ingredients came in daily, carried by the disgusting little dretch. Racks of lamb, prime ribs, nearly a ton of rice, dumplings, flour, curry, dough, sugar, and honey combs the size of logs. All in all, the Titans were left perplexed, and somewhat hungry, at the latest culinary labor of Kresk.

And then, wouldn't you know it? It was All Hallows Eve. And most of the Titans were upstairs, save Raven. She had casually explained that Kresk wanted to her to watch the stars tonight, make sure no Outer Gods or ghosts tried anything funny. The Titans were skeptical. However, they chose not to interfere tonight. The Titans had learned that it was best not to meddle in the affairs of demons, for mortal souls are crunchy and taste good with ketchup. Besides, there was partying to be done! Raves! Junk-food! Crappy horror flicks! And candy, oh so much candy; one is never no old to love candy on Halloween, and any teenager who says they have not envied a trick-or-treater at least once is a bald-faced liar of the worst degree. But Raven was patiently standing in Kresk's parlor, especially elegant tonight. Her high-heeled shoes sank into the plush red carpet. Her hair stayed shoulder length, but a stray lock had been turned white for the evening. For once in her life, the cambion wore make-up, but not much. A little gray blush here, and some dark eye-shadow, that was all. The entirety of her outfit for the night was spider themed. Why spiders? Why NOT spiders? Raven couldn't be expected to have only ONE totem animal, and ravens themselves were so hard to work into an outfit, at least not without looking pompous or raggedy. The girl's gloves, which reached almost to her shoulders, were transparent, laced with black spider-web designs and arachnids made of silk. The same fabric went for her long shawl (it was cold) and the straps of her dress. The dress itself almost touched the floor, and was rather modest. It was a naturally black fabric, accented with weavings from salamander cocoons. (Yes, fire salamanders make cocoons and silk. Look it up.) Raven considered at one something a little more risqué, but decided not to go with the entire 'slutty-demon-sex-queen-look' for numerous reasons. First, as aforementioned, it was cold. Second, her father was THE slutty-sex-demon-KING. She had to be independent for independence's sake. And third, the voices of Love and Lust whispered in the back of her mind, it was more fun to make them beg.

After some brief waiting, Raven was glad to see her date walk out of a room from where they were changing, and smiled as they complained, "I look ridiculous in this thing." Raven smiled at the roguish outfit, with its black and gold sewing. The cambion walked over and kissed her beloved on the cheek, murmuring into their ear, "You look spectacular. Do you have your mask?"

"Of course." Raven and her darling put on the half-masks for the evening. Raven's was more equitable to a veil which obscured her eyes behind yet more spider-silk weavings. The other member of the duet wore half a face, equal parts skull and flesh. Unable to hold back anymore, they firmly kissed their young mage on her dry, begging lips, holding for as long as they could. Raven made no effort to move away, and she was more then willing to impassion the kiss.

A nearby voice grinded out, "Oh for gods' sakes, stop. You'll give me diabetes…again." Kresk was trotting through the room carrying a basket of turnips. Raven and her love quickly separated from each other, Raven flushing, "Sorry. Spirit of the moment." Kresk grunted, "Indeed."

"Shouldn't you be happy for us?" Raven's sweet asked. The demon, hurt, responded, "I am happy! But I have to draw a line somewhere, damn it! A man can only stomach so much sugar, can't he?" Raven, quite not herself, giggled, "Of course. We better get moving. Which door to the Garden again?" Kresk pointed down the right corridor and said, "Just listen for the door with a jahi face on it. After that, follow Primrose Road by the lamplight, don't touch the Hound of Tindalos statue, and tell the Springheel that the password is 'Jack'."

"I can't remember all that!" Raven's date protested. Kresk laughed, "You don't have to! Don't worry, Raven will take care of you." Raven firmly gripped her sweetheart's hand as they locked arms. The cambion had to know before she went, and asked, "What's all the food for?"

"The feast of the Old Gods."

"What?" The half-demon asked, suspecting fiery, demonic trickery afoot. Kresk shooed her and her escort off, saying, "Don't worry about it! Go! Go! Enjoy yourselves! And don't be back 'til morning!" Not hearing the old tanar'ri, the couple uncharacteristically walked in unison, staring into each other's eyes. And once he was sure they were out of any kind of distance, Kresk joyfully clapped his claws together and sighed, "Ah! To be young and in love on an All Hallows Eve! But why I am I prattling on to myself like an old woman? There is work to be done and friends to see again tonight!"

The Titans got back from one last routine inspection of the city for the night. Kresk's pumpkins seemed to be everywhere: prisons, schools, parties, docks. Starfire swore she saw an orange grin somewhere in the bay. When they returned home, the heroes found their living room conquered. The couch had been removed, and a massive, long table sat and circled where it once was. Food of every kind was laid out on the table: sturgeon, hen, fried rice, turnip stew, dumpling soup, salads, dandelion wine, fried donuts, and other, stranger delicacies. Before the Titans could step a foot within their own room, the second time this month, Kresk appeared and waved, "No! No! Out! All of you! I want you out for tonight!"

"What?! You can't do that to us!" Beast Boy whined. The Fire Demon snorted, "Apparently I can. Now get! Shoo!"

"What is all this?" Cyborg asked. There were some steaks at the end of the table calling out to him. Kresk sighed; the idiots had a right to know as much as anybody, which basically translated to the long-winded demon wanting to tell a story. The Fire Demon said, "This is the feast of the Old Gods. I try to serve it at least once a decade. It's a small thing, but necessary. It is to commemorate all the forgotten gods, dead, and spirits of ages past, especially those who have protected me. When I was a young lad, still human, my dark arts often found me on the wrong end of a mob. Running from witch-hunters one cold winter in the forests of the Ukraine, I called out to the Black Twin Czernobog to help me. His worship had been dropped for many centuries, and I did not expect any aid. But then, a miracle! An avatar of the dark one himself appeared, and slaughtered every last hunter and hound! On the spot, I pledged my loyalty not just to the Black Twin, but his whole family, and vowed to repay kindness with kindness one day. And such incidents repeated themselves; nymphs, ghosts, faeries, and spirits of all manner have helped me in some of my most dire moments. And so, this is my kindness to them. That every now and then, they feast like they should today."

The Titans stared at the demon. This was the first they had ever heard of his past, and the first they had ever seen him help anything that wasn't Raven. A mutual disbelief was that the fat tanar'ri had ever been human, but it was a nice flourish. Robin spoke up and said, "Look, that's great and all, but why can't we stay? It's our house after all." Kresk paused for a moment. The ownership of property was a universal in supernatural etiquette. The demon tugged an invisible beard as he mumbled, "Yes, I thought that might come up. I should have foreseen this little snag, but I suppose you'll all just have to SHUT UP!" Faster as a bolt of lightning, the demon clapped his hands together, and opening them thrust a cloud of magic nightshade and poppies at the Titans. After a moment of coughing protests and Robin's last conscious "Damn…you…fat…" the Titans slumped to the floor, quite asleep for the evening. Kresk dusted his hands, saying, "Well, that takes care of that, now doesn't it?"

Smugly, Kresk walked to the massive window of the living room and placed his claws on the glass. Etching out a rectangle in flame and inscribing his personal rune on the 'door', a frame of glass disappeared, exposing the living room to the wide world outside. Kresk took a moment to survey the city, and breathe in the night air that would soon shake with the flying of a thousand dead monsters and his own booming voice. Kresk put his hands over his mouth, and making sure that his 'doorway' counted as a 'door', yelled an invitation: "Hear me, oh ye gods! Hear me, ye forgotten dead! Hear me, ye spirits of grave and grove, wind and wave! On this night, from the moment I finish speaking until the first ray of the All Saint's Dawn, I share with you my bounty! With utmost humility, I open the doors of this place unto you! Come, forgotten ones, come fading fey! Come and feast and drink and be merry! The world has turned without you, but you do not turn without the world! In this hour, come and rejoice for what may be your last time! Come witch king and hag queen! Come tree-shadow and tomb-man! Come crone and warlock and harpy and lillim and lamia! There is plenty for all of you here! I have not forgotten! I still remember how you helped me in my hour of need! I swear on the salt of the Styx that this is your home as much as mine! Our numbers grow fewer each year; the new gods came and provided you with no haven! Well I say now that this is your haven! Come here! Here now! From the lowest sprite to the highest daeva! So say I, Kreskarius Voneitz the Fire Demon!"

The reaction was immediate. Within a second of the last words being spoken, a domovoi popped out of the T.V. The domovoi was a demonic house spirit, namely the spirit of Titan's Tower. The old spirit that lived there before Kresk had arrived had been weak, a lingering creature that was never placated with milk or food of prayer. It was easy for the more symbiotic domovoi to kill the old spirit and move in. Raven occasionally left bowls of milk and bread for it, where nobody could find the gifts. As such, the domovoi did not cause any apparent mischief and even acted as an incredibly minor source of supernatural security. Incredibly minor is the key term of course. The little creature was rather comical for a creature of the supernatural. Its fat little body was covered in shaggy brown hair. In shape, the overall structure was not too far from a wingless chicken. Two cow-like legs sprouted from its sides and moved it along with a nimble gait. Its face was rather like and old wooden caricature or wood-wose from Europe: cow like ears, a thick moustache that drooped past its wide, fishy jaws, and huge eyes that despite their size constantly seemed to be squinting. And finally, the whole joke was completed with a long lion's tail crowned with an oak leaf. Without even looking at Kresk, the domovoi walked over to the table and started gobbling pancakes. Then there was a ghost or two at the window, chased down by a wraith and what could have been an allip, the spirit of a suicide. One of the few surviving nymphs in the state soon arrived, followed by nereids, dryads, and maenads of bay, park, and national tourist attraction. Off in the distance, Kresk could see a humanoid cloud of smoke gathering; Jump city's Zeitgeist, the spirit of the city itself, was coming to eat. And still there were more. The weakening Astarte, Baal, Zebub, and Dagon started to move, and finally, before he left, Kresk saw his long ago savior. A cloud of black, solid night and evil, moved across the sky in the massive shape of a man with wings. Yellow eyes glared over bestial lips and teeth, and Czernobog moved with greater haste, intent on beating his pantheon. And here came still stranger beings! Pouring in by the dozens, the old gods took Kresk on his offer, and came for another sacrifice. Sins and monsters and specters and demons and angels and gods all danced helter-skelter in the joyful fray of the tornado that lined up to the entrance of Kresk's abode. It might not fight off another year of forgetfulness, another year of only being a footnote compared to their brothers and sisters, or another year of being a forgotten tombstone in the back of a condemned cemetery, but it might. It would at least hold them through the night.

Kresk decided to leave. He hated not being able to eat his own food, and there was always the risk that someone or something that held a grudge against the Fire Demon would show up. Besides, it was not prudent to observe gods. Even though many of them were very outdated and decayed, they were still very sensitive about tradition, and such lowly being as Kresk should not be part of the feast. Kresk went out of the living room quietly, marking the door with a line of salt as a last precaution. And then the demon stared at the four slumbering Titans, and he remembered the truth of Halloween. For as much as it was a day of the dead and tradition, it was also time to celebrate. And no one, no matter what condition, should be deprived of a good All Hallows Eve. That was when Kresk did what he could only consider a kindness. Searching the Ether, the demon found the four teenager's minds drifting off to dream. Grabbing the four psyches, Kresk flung the minds to suburbia, and tacked them on to four little trick-or-treaters.

Trick, the demon thought. Indeed.

And so as four little children tasted, the Titans tasted. As four little children screamed, they screamed, and as four little children grew tired in their parents' arms, the Titans started to drift into a daze again. And all in all, while uneventful, it was immensely satisfying. For as I have said, any teenager that does not regret missing out on trick or treating is a bald faced liar of the worst degree. For one night, one night out of the year, one could simply forget who one was. And putting on a mask as a tot, one became a hero, the shining achievement of humanity in the eyes of oneself. Superman, Batman, Spiderman; whatever the form, heroes and dreams walked the street. And when age began to still set in, a new trend comes. The dream of not being what one loves, but being what one fears, one's shadow. Come ghouls! Come axe-murderers! Come death and devil high! Tonight I do not fear you! Tonight, we will be the best of friends, for you and I shall run and scare together! And finally, as one's legs wearied and parents had to pull you up more and more, one went home to the greatest gift of all. Better than turkey on Thanksgiving, better than valentines, better than caramel eggs on Easter…almost as good as presents on Christmas. One was witness to the splendor of a full pillow-case of candy. For there is nothing in the world so much more beautiful than a full a haul on Halloween night.

But not all was well on Halloween. For in the depths of the city, a certain problematic fat, already balding, young man was causing trouble. Control Freak laughed as his cutouts and living devices rampaged. Screaming behind his LIMITED EDITION GLOW IN THE DARK SCREAM MASK BUY NOW ON EBAY REAL CHEAP SCREAM MASK HALLOWEEN!, the rogue was far more interested in green then orange and black. "Go my slasher minions! GO AND SERVE ME!" with the insane, over-dramatic cackles. There was an unfortunate truth to Control Freak; that he knew the most about drama and milking a moment. At one point, he could have been an actor. Unfortunately, he was also a loser in the realities of Shakespeare and Sondheim as well.

Of course, this was not unplanned for by a certain faction, or factioneer, in the city. Control Freak ran from the video store. At some point, one would be tempted to ask, "Why not just buy the DAMN MOVIES?" The answer would be, of course, "Because then there would be no point in stealing them." As the young fat man that reminded Kresk somewhat of himself turned a corner to escape through a sewer (ala Phantom of the Opera, sans the fan girls, charisma, and musical ability), a scarecrow blocked his way. It was the familiar scarecrow that had been popping up everywhere; crooked pumpkin head, stick body, twig claws, and dark burlap poncho. But Control Freak gasped, and knew his doom was at hand. He was familiar with the trope, oh yes, very familiar. Here was one out of place object, behind him was another one, waiting. On the rooftop, in the garbage, and even skittering through the sewers, Jack O' Lanterns were waiting for him. Still, they were just twigs and gourds; he could take them. And then, they started moving. They just seemed to grow branch like legs and cord jumps, and started shambling toward the criminal. And then, they started flaming. The wicks in their heads exploded into infernos, as fire streamed out their eyes, their noses, and their leering mouths. Control Freak dropped his plunder and screamed. In the morning, the Titans would find him half-naked and quite ashamed, lying on their doorstep.

It felt like a wind that made the morning come. It felt like a cold winter breeze already telling autumn to leave that drew up the first ray of dawn, the faint blue on the horizon. The Titans slept, the old gods feasted, Raven romanced, and Control Freak chafed his bear stomach on gravel trying to get loose of his ropes. And far beyond the edge of the city, Kresk performed one of his last two duties. On a back-road nobody had taken, just left of a street that night called old, dirt roads met. Despite the approaching morning, the air was still black here, clinging to everything that moved like oil. The only lights were the blazes of the scarecrows. Kresk had gathered them all, and now his constructs stood by him as he waited. After many a long axis of stars, a brighter light came down the road. Hopping and dancing and jumping down the lane was another Scarecrow, but far more regal than his brothers. The scarecrow wore a top hat on his pumpkin, as well as black suit, complete with coat tails, khaki pants, a bow tie, and suede shoes. Around him, living balls of orange and red flame with devilish grins flew around him. Not far behind, a woman with pure black skin, hair, teeth, and eyes flew on night winds, her full figure completely naked and sensuous in the cold air. For the being she was following was not a Jack O' Lantern, but THE Jack O' Lantern.

Nyarlathotep, IA! IA!, had a problem as far as Outer Gods went. For he had a hideous, abhorrent fetish that made even his closest friend and most hated enemy Azathoth recoil in his idiotic movements. Nyarlathotep had a human fetish. There was just something about humanity that forced Nyarlathotep to somehow love and hate them. It was truly the damndest thing any cosmic entity had ever seen. Nyarlathotep was, after all, indisputably evil. Now it could be said that any Outer God is evil, but this is a crass and inaccurate term. The fact is that the Outer Gods and the Great Old Ones are simply so far from mortal comprehension that there can be no label for them besides evil. But in truth, they are not. The Outer Gods simply are, were, and will be. If Cthulhu ends the earth, it is because he does not understand humanity any more then as a cockroach. If Shub-Niggurath forces bestiality, it is because she can see no difference between a man and his goat. And if Yog-Sothoth demands a mind, it is simply because it does not see the difference between a mortal mind and a termite mind. When dealing with Outer Gods, there is only one important rule to remember: if you don't bother them, they won't bother you (mostly).

Except for Nyarlathotep.

He just likes to screw with mortals for the hell of it. And unlike his arrogant peers, he understands humanity. He fully understands that Outer God and man can connect, can understand each other, can even empathize under the right conditions. Which makes it all the more fun to kill mortals and cause mayhem. And yet…he just can't resist playing with mortals. So somewhere, the Voice of the Outer Gods heard the legend of Jack O' Lantern. And somewhere, he found a new mask. Once a year, with Lilith at his side, Jack ran through the world on the day of the dead, and let the flame of Halloween burn on.

Jack stopped at the middle of the cross-roads, and stared at Kresk with his pumpkin eyes. Lilith prowled and the background and cooed to the will o' wisps around her. Kresk, almost fearfully, looked at Jack and said, "My fee, for another epoch. I trust that you and yours will stay away from me and mine until next time?" Jack joyfully shook his head. Then, with loving sorrow, Kresk told his Jack O' Lanterns, "All right, go. This is your new master. Follow him from now on and do what he says. And take care of yourselves! Don't talk to any strange gourds! And change your heads at least once a week! And wear a sweater on cold nights and a hat when you're out on hot days! And-"But the mindless constructs were already jogging away from their creator, and Jack led them all in a dance as he disappeared into the shadows again. Kresk sniffed a little and waved his pumpkins goodbye.

And now it was a dawn on All Saint's Day. And Kresk prepared his final duty. An old chest was in the demon's claws, snarling with wood teeth and iron jaws. Kresk opened the box and only said, "And now all things that were return to where you belong." It was a simple command, but powerful. Through the airs of Jump City, a whirlwind of Halloween came. Twisting and writhing, paper ghosts and plastic spiders danced with plastic pumpkin and paper skeleton. And for a brief moment, they were all real, and they remembered. They remembered how they were the continuation of a proud and noble tradition that started with the first fire in the first cave of the first man. They remembered how pumpkins guided spirits to warm homes and scared off the bad, how spiders taught wisdom in their ancient spinning and conniving. How bats soared on the air, aberrant to man, not quite bird or beast or demon but a little of all. How snakes slithered through gardens to tempt Eves, how black cats sucked baby breath and meowed with witches who danced and prayed at Black Sabbaths with dark goats and fresh brooms over bubbling cauldrons. Frankenstein laughed at God in his promethean horror, while the wolf man howled the wanting of man's id and Dracula recounted the first vampires, the lamia and the lillim and the nosferatu. Skeletons danced to bone flutes and told fortunes while tomb stones helped man remember where he came from, and where he was going. All, all flew into the chest at great speed, until Kresk snapped the box shut. Patting the package gently, Kresk whispered at Jump, "You've got 364 days to get ready for the next one, stupid mortals. I'll be back…I always have another trick to play, after all." At that, Kresk went downstairs back to his room. And Halloween ended for another year, the grandest night of nights. Old memories grew a year old, forgotten gods a bit more forgotten. But it was as Kresk said, just another year to go…

And quite disheveled, Raven and her love returned, both scandalously missing their shoes.

**HAPPY HALLOWEEN!**


End file.
